


The Courier

by LadyKnightSkye



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, F/M, Inappropriate Use of a Mandalorian, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 41,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnightSkye/pseuds/LadyKnightSkye
Summary: In the wrong place at the wrong time, an ex-spy is drawn into the orbit of a wayward bounty hunter and his too cute to be real prize. Unable, and then unwilling, to distance herself from the troublesome twosome, she becomes entangled in the fight to protect the Asset.Sometimes a family is a Mandalorian, a Courier, and a Force-sensitive toddler.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 198
Kudos: 578





	1. Chapter 1

“Rotten sonsapoxy-whores!”

Another hard flat-footed kick landed against the side of the small vessel. “Bastards!”

The last of her ire spent, the Courier sat hard on a rock near her now non-functional ship. The old girl had served her well for the last five years, but between failing machinery and obvious sabotage, there would be no salvaging it. At least not here, out in the middle of the wilderness of Arvala-7. She pushed to her feet, and went back into her little cruiser for her pack. Quickly she grabbed everything she would needor didn’t want to lose. She knew desert planets like Arvala tended to attract scavengers and thieves. They would descend on her little ship as soon as she was gone. Into her pack went her good clothes, ration packs, two water canteens, and the blanket her mother had made for her. Onto her arm went the buckler her father had gifted her, and on her hip went her blaster and her vibroblade.

Ready, she stepped out into the heat again. On the way down she’d seen a compound not far from her current location, so she decided to try it first. Hopefully she wasn’t running into some sort of crime syndicate. Back during the Empire’s reign, syndicates had infested the Outer Rim, and the Courier had no particular wish to get entangled in one. She trudged in the direction she’d seen the compound, and lost herself in the rhythm of her footsteps. Unconciously, she began to chant her father’s favorite marching song, her voice soft and warm as it carried through the dry heat of the desert.

She made good time to the compound, but hesitated as she approached. There were bodies on the ground. Scorch marksdecorated the walls and broken chunks of masonry littered the ground. One door had been carved out by what looked like concentrated blaster fire. “Damn,” she murmured.

She had two choices. She could turn around and try to find another settlement, or she could loot this one. It really wasn’t a choice, but she felt better thinking of it as a choice. She needed to find a comm array to send a message back to her sisters. They needed to know that some one was gunning for their operation, and she had an uncomfortable idea who it was.

Picking her way through the carnage, she approached the blown out door. She froze as soon as she saw a figure moving within the dim recesses of the room beyond. There was a gleam of metal, and then she was dropping her pack and her hands went to her blade and blaster. She made no further moves, only wishing to show that she would fight if it came down to it.

A Mandalorian stepped out into the light.

As soon as he’d seen her, he’d pulled his blaster, and pointed it right at her. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice oddly calm and pleasant. He did not sound concerned at all.

The Courier felt her hackles rise. “Just a lost traveler,” she said with as little bite as possible. She couldn’t allow her temper to start a fight. She was well trained, but his Beskar armor would make him a hard kill. “I had to force a landing near here. I’m just looking for a way off planet.”

He stood silently for a moment, cocking his head to the side. He lowered his blaster, but she knew that he was no less dangerous. “And you just conveniently landed near this compound?”

She snarled at him. “Yes, because I didn’t feel like dying out in the desert!”

He apparently had nothing to say to that. “Look,” she continued, “I don’t particularly want to be involved with . . . whatever the hell you’re involved with, alright? I just need a lift off of this hellhole. If you could point me in the right direction, I’d be ever so grateful.”

He took another step towards her, and she finally noticed the hover cradle at his side. When she caught sight of what was in it, she gasped. “By the gods of my fathers that is the cutest thing I have ever seen.”

The Mandalorian looked down at the child, and then back up at the Courier. He stood still for long moments before nodding. “Come with me.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I can take you to someone who can help you,” he replied, striding past her. “Just keep up.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice.

* * *

The Mandalorian kept a steady eye on the Courier as they walked. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that she had stumbled upon a bounty hunter doing his thing, and she was not about to get between him and his job, even though his job was the sweetest thing she’d ever seen in the galaxy. Her father would probably roll his eyes at her, but he had been blessed with ten daughters who had his love of children.

The pair walked silently, and the only sound between them was the cooing of the child at the Mandalorian’s side. The Courier wondered if she could get away with singing a marching chant, but decided against it. She had no desire to incur this man’s wrath should he take offense at her singing the songs of his people. 

They walked for hours, and the Courier did not notice that the passing time. She just trekked on, oblivious to the heat and the leagues that they were walking in the hard packed soil. Every so often she would take a sip from her canteen, and at one point she pulled a ration pack to eat as they walked. She was used to hard labor in hot conditions, although she was from a tropical locale herself so she was more used to a humid heat rather than a dry heat.

As they entered a dim canyon, she sighed with relief. It was nice getting out of the sun, though she guessed the Mandalorian probably felt even better than she did. She knew that armor came with environmental controls, but it was probably taxing as hell to walk in the heat even still. As they walked, lizards came skittering out, curious about them. She smiled a bit at them and giggled when one cautiously approached her. “Hello there,” she murmured softly. The child cooed.

For his part, the Mandalorian examined her with a curious eye. The woman had not given him a name, but he had also not given his, so he guessed it was equitable. Her skin was the same dusky tan as the soil they’d trekked over, and her hair was dark and pulled ruthlessly back into a bun. Her eyes were dark and piercing, but she was on the shorter side. He was not the tallest male in his covert, but she came up barely to his chin. However, whatever height she lacked led to deep curves from her generous bust to her wide hips. Overall, she was aesthetically pleasing. More importantly, she was quiet. She had not made conversation with him at all, and he was reminded of the serenity he’d found with Kuiil. Like the helpful Ugnaught, the woman did not seem overly concerned with talking, and she was competent.She also kept her distance from the child, which was appreciated.

Suddenly, the lizards ran back into their hiding places.

The Mandalorian froze, but the Courier pulled her vibroblade. She had a short sword, and as the Trandoshans leaped for them, the Mandalorian hoped she knew how to use it.

He dispatched several of the enemies easily, and looked up to see that yes, she did know how to use a short sword. The Trandoshans were wisely attacking him first, but the first that had come for her was being held off expertly. When the last Trandoshan charged the child, she dispatched him even before the Mandalorian could fire a round. She glanced up at him, and though she couldn’t tell, their eyes met as an incessant beeping reached his ears. Both of them turned to look at the tracking fob on the ground. She looked back towards the child. “Who would put out two bounties on the same kid?”

“No one would dare cross the Bounty Hunter’s Guild,” he replied softly. His arm throbbed from where one of the Trandoshans had sliced cleanly across his bicep.

“So these guys came from the Guild too?” she asked. “Damn.”

He nodded, and set out. She looked to the bodies on the ground and then back up at him. Finally, she began following him along. They walked a few hours more, and when the sun began to set, they settled down to make a camp on a few large rocks. The Mandalorian started a small fire while the Courier prepared two ration packs. She suspected that he wouldn’t eat with her, but she bet the child was hungry. “Here,” she said, handing a little reconstituted bread to the baby. It chortled, and reached for the morsel.

A hard hand clamped down on her wrist. The baby stopped, looking at the Mandalorian. “What are you doing?”

She glared. “Feeding the baby. Look, I’m not a bounty hunter. I’m a courier. I don’t want whatever reward you’re getting, but I also don’t want a baby to starve. The little guy hasn’t eaten all day.”

Long moments passed, but finally he let go of her wrist. She held the bread back out, and the baby chortled with glee as it took the offered food. The Courier glanced back over to see the Mando take of his breastplate and examine the cut on his arm. The cut was clean, but it would need to be sealed. She handed the baby the rest of the bread, and then got up to walk around the fire. “Here,” she murmured, “let me help you.”

He seemed to ponder that for a moment, his head cocked ever so slightly to the side. Then, he held up his arm to her. She pulled off her gloves, and pulled the cloth back from the wound. His muscles tensed, and she couldn’t help but notice the softness of his skin. “I need you to relax,” she murmured, licking her lips.

His muscles loosened, but the rest of his body was still tense. He was as nervy as an unbroken steed. Shaking her head, she took a look at the wound, and then went back around to her pack. She pulled out her first aid kit, and returned to his side. She smoothed antibacterial ointment on it, and then laid a bandage over it. She kept her touch impersonal, and businesslike as best she could. She was cognizant, however, of how close she was to him, and the fact that he was staring at her. He never fully relaxed but always held a coiled tension that spoke to his ability to snap into action should the need arise.

She startled a bit when she felt a little hand on her shirt, pulling up to get into her lap as she knelt in front of him. The child was reaching towards his arm, and scrunching up its face adorably. “Now what are you trying to do?” she murmured, picking the little one up. The Mandalorian said nothing as she put the child back into its cradle.

The Mandalorian turned away from her and back to his breastplate. He needed to make a couple of repairs, and he listened to the Courier as she began to sing softly to herself. There were no actual words, and the tune was a meandering thing, but he found himself shifting uncomfortably. This all felt .. .strange. Even with the covert he was a loner by nature, and had rarely sat at a fire with another person. When he was confined to their lair, he usually retreated to his rooms to spend his time in peace.

She finally looked up. “Are you going to eat?”

“No.”

She cocked her head, pursing her lips. “You need to eat.”

“I cannot remove my helmet.” He bent back to his breast plate.

Her heard her snort. “Look, if I go to sleep, can you take it off? Or at least push it up? We can close the little one’s crib so that you can eat in peace. You need to eat something.”

He nodded, and heard her shift. When he looked up, she was facing away from him, her blankets pulled up over her head. The child’s crib was closed, and an opened ration pack sat beside the fire. Functionally alone, the Mandalorian ate the ration pack she’d set out for him.

* * *

The next day dawned bright. The little trio began their journey early, and made good time. The Mandalorian kept the pace steady, but the Courier was starting to feel it. Her legs were aching something fierce, but she pushed on, knowing that the Mandalorian would leave her if it suited him. She was able to keep up, but it was nearly running into the child that alerted to her to the fact that something was wrong.

When she blinked her eyes and focused, she realized that the huge brown thing she was staring at was a sand crawler. “Jawas,” she hissed.

They were stripping down a ship, which she guessed based on his reaction had to belong to the Mandalorian. He laid down on the rock, and she crouched next to him carefully. He aimed, fired, aimed, fired. Jawa after Jawa disintegrated, and the Courier eyed the Mandalorian as he pulled more rounds. Like the sand rats they were, the Jawas scurried into their fortress and took off. After one ineffectual shot to the back of its engine, the Mandalorian was up and running.

The Courier took off after him, wondering what the hell was going through his head. He ran flat out, and jumped up onto the crawler. “Gods dammit,” she snapped, pumping her poor legs as hard as she could. She half considered stopping, but even though she was more than willing to leave the Mandalorian to his fate, the child was being pulled along mercilessly by the cradle’s tether to the Mandalorian’s gauntlet. She couldn’t stand the thought of the Jawas getting the child - her sister Mandalay had once told her about witnessing a tribe of Jawas selling Wookie children into slavery. Who knew what they would do to the little one, especially if they found out that it had a price on its head. So she ran even though her thighs and calves felt like they were on fire.

The crawler kept getting smaller and smaller, but she didn’t worry about it. She followed the crib, her breaths coming in wheezing pants as she tried to keep up with the whizzing little white egg. Finally, it began to slow, and she realized that there was a motionless body laid out on the ground in front of her. “Shit,” she muttered.

The Mandalorian was spread eagled on the ground, and for a moment she worried that she was stuck out in the middle of nowhere with a wanted child as her only company. Sure, she could get back to the Mandalorian’s ship, but there was no telling whether or not the Jawas had left the comms in place. To make things worse, she had no fob for the kid, so the next group of bounty hunters after it might just kill her to take the bounty that she wasn’t even planning on collecting. The man on the ground took a deep breath, and she sighed in relief. “Well,” she said to the little one, “at least his head’s hard.”

The child cooed in agreement.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battling the Mudhorn.

The walk back to the Mandalorian’s ship was completed in silence. The Courier limped along, her still aching legs going numb from the overuse of the last two days. The Mandalorian acted outwardly like nothing was wrong, but internally he knew that he probably had at least bruised a rib in his fall from the sand crawler. His armor had been able to redistribute most of the force, but he wasn’t so sure that a hair line fracture wasn’t one of the reasons that it hurt to breathe. The Child cooed and gurgled.

When they got back to the ship, the Courier collapsed on the loading ramp while the Mandalorian examined the damaged equipment. He went through his ship, and she heard him slamming things around and growling. The Child clambered out of its cradle, and went up to the door to look in at the irritated warrior. She gave the little one a sad smile. “Well, what’s the plan now?”

She gingerly turned to face the Mandalorian. He said nothing, just watched her. “Are you injured?”

She shook her head. “No, but I have pushed myself hard these last two days. I spend a lot of time in space, so I’m not used to endurance work.” She grimaced.

He sighed again, something which he did with almost alarming frequency for a grown man. “Fortunately there’s someone who can help us not far from here.”

He stepped forward, and she groaned as she tried to get up. Her legs hurt something fierce, and they were almost at the point of not cooperating. After an awkward moment, she decided to just slide to the edge of the ramp and hop to her feet. So focused on getting up herself, she didn’t notice that the Mandalorian was watching her as she flailed. After finally getting to the edge of the ramp, she managed to slide off the side of it, but her legs were still not happy with her. She nearly crumpled to the ground, but a strong hand gloved in soft leather kept her from falling.

She looked up into the ominous T-shaped slit of his visor, and smiled. “Thanks.”

He nodded, and kept a hand on her bicep as she took a few shaky steps. The Child cooed as it floated at their sides. They set off, but the pace was slower. “So,” she started, “who is this mysterious contact?”

“Moisture farmer,” he replied.

She nodded, but didn’t inquire further. Instead, she allowed him to lead her across more unforgiving desert. The walk was another two hours, but when she saw lights in the distance she nearly jumped for joy. A male Ugnaught met them, wiping his hands on a towel. “You survived. Is she the one who has been causing all this trouble?”

“No,” the Mandalorian answered. “She is just an unlucky courier.”

The Ugnaught nodded to them, and the Courier smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to have a comm system, would you?”

He shook his head. “No, not one that can get messages off planet.”

She sighed this time. “Damn.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head. He found that he was strangely glad that she would be with him for a little longer. He shoved away the feeling, focusing on his main problem. “Jawas destroyed my ship.”

The Ugnaught sighed, and gestured for them to follow him back to his hut. The dwelling was a simple one, and the Courier smiled. “Sir -“

“My name is Kuiil,” he cut in.

She nodded. “Kuiil. May I cook for you the evening? I do not wish to be an imposition.”

The Ugnaught gave her a gimlet stare, but he nodded. “My food stores are in there,” he said, gesturing to his kitchen area. “There is fresh blurg meat, as well as root vegetables.”

“Spices?”

“Of course,” he said, almost in an offended tone.

The Courier nodded, and went in to check to the icebox. She only half listened to the conversation going on outside. It wasn’t until a sharp, “Spit it out,” that she looked up. She was just in time to watch the Child swallow down an entire frog. While the other two males were sharing a look, she gasped and went into default child-rearing mode. “Ew! Little one!”

She hurried out, picking up the Child. “If you are so hungry, you can come have some roots! There’s blue sweet tubers that are delicious raw, and you don’t need to eat icky frogs!”

She carried him back into the hut, and began to feed him pieces of sweet vegetables. The blurg meat had already been cut into strips, so all she had to do was sear it and cook down the starchier vegetables. As she was doing so, she did not notice the looks she was getting from the two males.

Kuill snorted. “Mothering sort you found there.”

The Mandalorian nodded. He said nothing though, instead playing back the scene of the woman coming out and speaking to the child in a saccharine voice. A curious twisting was happening low in his gut, and it was a sensation he’d not experienced in a long time. Back when he was younger he’d felt it, but it had been in response to a beautiful town girl he’d met outside the covert. She’d been a pretty blonde with the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen. It had been the first time that his resolve as a Mandalorian had been tested. Ultimately, her whiles had not been stronger than his honor, but he knew what this odd feeling was and did not like it.

The Courier was competent, polite, and gentle. She was also hardy and willing to work. All things attractive to a Mandalorian that valued usefulness above looks. The pretty town blonde had been lazy and looking for a meal ticket, but this woman . . . She was nothing like that.

“I still can’t believe something so small was the cause of all of this,” Kuiil said.

“Well, it matters little now,” the Mandalorian replied. “My ship is destroyed. We’re stuck here.”

“Not destroyed, stripped.” Kuiil grunted. “We’ll go to the Jawas and trade them something for the parts. I have spoken.”

“After dinner,” the Mandalorian said.

Kuiil snorted. “We leave in the morning, Mandalorian. From what you’ve told me, both of you need to rest. At first light we’ll head out.”

“Of course,” he replied just as he heard a feminine voice from the hut call, “Time for dinner!”

* * *

In the morning, Kuiil insisted that the trio of wayward travelers ride on his sled instead of walking more. The Courier appreciated the gesture, and happily sat next to the Mandalorian on the journey. She watched the passing terrain with interest, and at one point allowed the Child to sit in her lap. The Mandalorian sat beside her, and the Child tried a couple times to sit in his lap as well. Each time, the man only put the little one back into its crib.

“If we can pull this off, you can use my comm to call out,” the Mandalorian said quietly about an hour into their journey.

The Courier looked over at him with a smile. “I appreciate it.”

They went back to silence, but it was a curiously comfortable silence. The Mandalorian watched the scenery, aware that at any moment a new threat could emerge. He tolerated the Child’s attempts at getting attention, but fortunately the Courier managed to keep it busy. He was half aware of her checking the Child over. “You don’t seem to need a new diaper, but we’ll see about that in a few more minutes,” she was saying as she examined the little creature’s hind end. “Whatever you are, your species seems to need to eliminate waste less often than a human child.”

“Let me know if you need a break,” Kuiil called back.

“Keep this up, Kuiil, and I may just ask for your hand in marriage,” the Courier called back. “Such a gentleman,” she said to the Child.

“You make a tempting offer,” the Ugnaught replied, “But I am not fond of human women.”

She laughed, and went back to lavishing the Child with attention. The Mandalorian glanced over to her, and felt his chest squeeze when he glimpsed her tickling the little one’s belly. “Don’t get too attached,” he said coldly.

She gave him a sharp look, but ultimately said nothing in reply. The day passed on in that way, with only a few breaks. As night fell, rain began to fall, gently at first and then in a soaking downpour. The Child went into its floating cradle with the lid closed, but the adults were left out in the chill and wet. The Mandalorian’s cape was waterproofed, and after a few moments in the rain, he held it up, offering the meager shelter to the Courier. The woman didn’t have to be asked twice, as she quickly scooted under his outstretched arm. She huddled close into his side, and he wrapped the cape around her. In so doing he also wrapped his arm around her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She cuddled in close, and after a few moments, her breathing evened out and he realized that she was asleep.

That awful squiggly feeling came back into his gut. He wasn’t used to anyone trusting him enough to sleep against him, and here was this woman who was still a stranger curled up beneath his cape like a sodden kitten. He know that he needed to get away from her, but at the same time he didn’t want to leave her behind. He . . . He liked her. He liked Kuiil. For the first time in a long time, he yearned for the closeness of other people.

He shook his head violently, and closed his eyes behind his helm. He needed to sleep.

* * *

The morning light was bright when they came upon the Jawas. They, however, were no pleased to see the Mandalorian. “They want you to put down your weapons.”

“I’m a Mandalorian. Weapons are part of my religion,” he replied.

The Courier rolled her eyes, and Kuiil shrugged. “Well, unless you put them down, you’re not getting your parts back.”

With a full body sigh that impressed the Courier, he put down his rifle. The three adults approached the Jawas, and sat down for the trade. The Courier did not speak Jawa fluently, but she knew enough to follow along.

As the negotiations got heated - literally - she held up her hands. “How about this, I’ll trade you my ship for the parts. I can give you last coordinates.”

Or at least that’s what she tried to say. While they didn’t ridicule her by comparing her to a Wookie, it was obvious from their giggles that she’d mangled the language. “I hate Jawas,” she muttered.

“Agreed,” the Mandalorian snarled.

She gave him a look with raised brows. It was the first time she’d heard him actually sound pissed off, and she could tell that he was having a time of it. She patted his hand, but apparently that was enough to set the Jawas off. “We’ll give you the parts for your woman,” the leader cackled.

Both of them recoiled.

“She is not my woman!”

“I am not for sale!”

Kuiil held up a hand. “The woman is not for sale. Neither is the child. There has to be something else.”

The leader looked back to his tribe, and then back to them. “The Egg!”

Kuiil put his face into his hands.

* * *

“I don’t know if this is a good idea,” the Courier said as she walked down the ramp to the Mandalorian’s side. “Mud horns are vicious.”

“The only thing they’d take was this egg,” the Mandalorian replied. “Unless you’re willing to become a Jawa slave, we’re going for this egg.”

She sighed. “Just . . . Be careful.”

He nodded, and set out towards the mudhorn’s lair. After a moment’s hesitation, she decided to follow. He said nothing at her trotting up to his side, but she pulled her blaster and vibroblade as they entered the muddy courtyard of the mudhorn’s cavern. She stayed with the baby as he cautiously moved into the cave. A tense moment passed, and she pursed her lips in worry. “Come on,” she whispered. “Come on.”

It was at that moment that the Mandalorian came flying out of the cave. The Courier started to his side, but the mudhorn came running out of its cavern, and she was obviously pissed. The huge shaggy creature bellowed a challenge before charging the Mandalorian again. He had tried to fire his rifle, but the sticky mud was jamming it. He was thrown again, and this time she ran to the creature. “Hey! Big and ugly!”

The maddened creature turned for her, but she wasn’t quick enough. Slipping and sliding on the mud, she felt the impact akin to a speeder at full throttle. It hit her in the side, and she thanked the stars that she still wore her father’s buckler. The creature struck that, and it helped to redistribute some of the force of the blow. She went sailing through the air, but at least she wasn’t going to land with a broken rib. The impact of her body into the viscous mud knocked the breath out of her, but she knew from prior experience that she wasn’t seriously injured.

Across the courtyard, the Mandalorian had clambered back to his feet just in time to watch the woman fly through the air. She’d saved the baby, but the mudhorn was about to make another run on her and she was still down. He cried out, and used his grappling hook to get its attention. The creature turned back and charged him. His flamethrower was ineffective, and it hit him again, throwing him into the air. He landed hard, and was dazed for a moment. He heard the thing bellow again, and looked over to see the Courier diving towards him. The hilt of her vibroblade was sticking for the animal’s side, but all she’d done was enrage it. “Get up!” She cried. “Get up!”

Slowly, deliberately, he got to his feet. He pulled his tiny dagger, and held it out in front of them. He swept his other arm back, pushing the Courier behind him. “Take the child. Run.”

“What?” She shook her head, and he felt her hands clutch his shoulders. “No!” The mudhorn bellowed its rage.

“Go!” He cried, falling to one knee. He’d fall here, but at least she could save herself and the Child.

“I’m not leaving you!”

The mudhorn charged. He felt her kneel beside him. “No,” she whispered. “Don’t give up!”

But he had nothing left. He’d used all of his weapons, and the creature was too big to subdue with physical strength alone. He didn’t take his eyes off the creature, but he willed the woman at his side to _go_. Her faith in him was misplaced. He would meet his end here, but at least she could carry on the story of his last efforts. But her hands never left his shoulders. “Get up! Fight!”

The mudhorn was upon them. He switched the dagger to one hand, and pushed her as hard as he could out of the way. If she wouldn’t save herself, he would do it. He braced for impact.

But the mudhorn never made it to them.

It began to float.

“The hell?” The Courier whispered.

Both of them stood, incredulously watching the mudhorn futilely running in the air, bellowing its distress and rage. Neither spoke another word, but instead turned back to the Child when they heard a small sound. It had its eyes closed, one hand held out towards them. It was trembling with effort, but the effort of what, neither could fully comprehend. The Courier had an idea of what might be going on, and the Mandalorian was completely poleaxed. But the spell only held for a moment. They both whipped back around at the sound of the mudhorn landing back on its feet, but the Mandalorian used its moment of shock to launch one last attack. Somehow the Child had bought them some time, and he refused to waste the opportunity. His vibroblade sunk deep, and the mudhorn dropped with one last strangled cry.

He twisted the blade, insuring that it had cut deep and penetrated the brain. He felt a hand on his arm and looked down at the Courier. She was as mudsplattered as he was, but she was giving him a tentative smile. She turned back and pulled her vibroblade from where it was sunk deep into the animal’s side, and then holstered it. “I’ll look after the little one,” she murmured. “Go get the damn egg.”

He nodded, and turned back to the cavern. He found the egg easily enough, but his mind kept racing between the Child and the Courier. He had never seen something like what the Child had apparently pulled off, but at the same time he couldn’t forget the tenacity of the Courier. She’d refused to run when she had the chance, instead staying by his side to try to get him to continue the fight. He couldn’t decide if she was courageous or stupid. As he walked back into the late afternoon sun, he found her bending over the Child. She did not look pleased. “What’s wrong?” He asked. His voice was a croak.

“The little one passed out,” she replied. “I don’t know if he’ll be okay.”

The Mandalorian nodded, and gestured towards the pass. “We need to get back to the Jawas.”

She nodded, and followed his lead. Both of them were limping badly, and bruised from head to toe. He held the precious egg beneath his arm, and had to carefully keep an eye on his breastplate. It had been completely crushed by the second hit of the mudhorn, and he wasn’t sure it would stay attached to its underlying mooring. It took them a few extra minutes to get back, but both of them kind of wished they could have avoided the sight of the Jawas eating the egg. It’s as disgusting and unsettling.

After their meal, the Jawas were more than happy to load up the parts from the Mandalorian’s ship, but the Child did not wake. Exhausted, the Mandalorian and the Courier could only sit and stare forward for several hours, until Kuiil finally asked them to explain what had happened. The Mandalorian did in a halting manner, while the Courier watched him from her perch beside him. After the first time, he turned and reached out to softly touch the hover cradle. Something about the gesture touched the Courier. It was so gentle, and sweet. So far she’d been the only one showing the Child concern and affection, and the Mandalorian had been aloof from it all. To see him genuinely worriedtouched her heart.

Then she remembered that this was a bounty, so he might just be concerned about his payday.

When they got back to the Mandalorian’s ship, he seemed to think that the damage was too great. “This will take weeks to fix.”

“It will if you don’t help!” Kuiil said as he walked inside to judge what needed to be done.

“Many hands make light work,” the Courier echoed. She walked past him too. “But first, bathing. I still have mud in rather unsettling places.”

Kuiil nodded from his perch on the ramp. “Clean yourself up, and I’ll take a look at what needs to be done.”

She smiled, and the Mandalorian gestured to the ship. “I think the Jawas left the refresher alone.”

She turned to him now, and smiled. “Thanks. Do you mind if I go first? You can have a turn while me and Kuiil go back for tools.”

Kuiil looked up at his name and then cocked his head at her words. “Sure,” the Mandalorian replied.

The two males watched her walk into the ship. “She’s a keeper,” Kuiil said baldly.

The Mandalorian just grunted.

* * *

Work went quickly with three sets of hands. It still took well over a day, but as time passed, the three became something akin to friends. The first afternoon saw the Courier open up a bit and begin to tease and flirt with Kuiil. “Just remember,” she said at one point, “all you have to do is call, Kuill. I’ll deliver a package for you anytime.”

The old Ugnaught laughed. “Go on girl. Bring me a torque wrench.”

From his spot kneeling on the floor reconnecting wires, the Mandalorian looked up with a little envy twisting through his heart. The Courier looked down at him and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll deliver your packages anytime too.”

She was out the door before he could reply, but Kuiil opened his mouth first. “I think she likes you.”

“I seem to be under the impression that she’s flirting with you.” He kept his head down.

Kuiil shook his head, deciding not to push the younger male. At that point, she came back in. “What’s going on? Is he jealous of you Kuiil?” She looked over to him. “Nothing to be jealous of, Good Looking,” she said as she gave his ass a light tap with her foot.

“Who mentioned jealousy, Laar’ika?” The words had tumbled out before he’d really thought about them. He wished he could take them back. The first competent woman to pay him any attention and suddenly he was a stammering school boy.

“What did you call me?” She asked, but her voice was soft.

“It means little smartass,” he replied smoothly. It most certainly didn’t, but she didn’t speak Mando’a.

She gave him a small, mysterious smile. “Okay, Good Looking.”

It continued on from there. For the rest of the evening into the night they worked, and the entire time the Mandalorian and the Courier referred to each other by their new pet names. Kuiil, of course, did not refer to them as such, but he recognized them for what they were. The Child did not wake, but the Mandalorian and the Courier both checked on the little one regularly. When the final engine checks were done, he stood with them in the hold of the ship. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to pay you,” the Mandalorian said.

“You have brought peace back to my valley,” Kuiil replied. “That is enough.”

The Mandalorian nodded. “I could use a crew member of your caliber.”

Kuiil shook his head. “I have worked too long to be free of servitude. And anyway, this little lady needs someone to get her off planet. She’s shown her capability, why not ask her?”

The Mandalorian hesitated, but finally turned to the Courier. “I know I offered you the use of my comm, but, I can offer you a job. You would be a valuable addition to my crew too.”

She parted her lips, and struggled for an answer. She should say no. She had other obligations, but he had saved her life. Her honor and some buried instinct bade her to accept his offer, though she wasn’t sure it was the best idea. Hell, the two of them still hadn’t traded names. “I . . . I do need to save up for a new ship. What would my pay be?”

“Depending on how much help you are, between ten and twenty percent,” he answered readily. Secretly he’d hope she’d decline, but another part of him knew that he would miss the company he’d found here on Arvala-7.

She nodded. “Alright. You got yourself a deal.”

Kuiil nodded. “May the Child be healthy and bring you both a handsome reward. I have spoken.”

They watched him disembark, and the Courier quickly stowed her gear. Once she was settled, they lifted off with one last wave to Kuiil. “Alright, Good Looking, where are we off to?”

“To deliver our bounty,” he replied while he turned to check the cradle. The Child still slept.

“To deliver our bounty,” she echoed softly, just as the stars began to blur and the Child opened its eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you’re having fun reading! Thank you for all the kudos and I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter too!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue is on.

The trio in the cockpit were silent for much of their flight. The Child had woken, and the Courier had insured that the little one had something to eat and drink after his long nap. The Mandalorian did not pay much mind to them, instead focusing on getting them back to home base. “The trip will take approximately four hours,” he finally said to the two seated behind him.

“Gotcha, boss,” the Courier replied. She looked over to the Child. She licked her lips. She ached to ask who they were giving the kid to, but decided ultimately not to. She had no idea what was going on in the Mandalorian’s head, but she knew that it was probably not anything good. She knew Mandalorian ways, and giving up children was not one of them. She had no idea if they were returning someone’s lost son or a new super weapon, but she had the vague feeling that she wasn’t going to like who was on the other end of the bounty. But she’d made her bed, so it was time to lay in it.

She went down and dug into her pack, pulling out her knitting. She did not have much material, but there was enough yarn to last her a little while longer, and she needed something to do that was not playing with the Child. As she settled back in, she noticed the Child focused almost completely on the Mandalorian. She bent to her knitting, and the silence stretched on longer.

For his part, the Mandalorian was not so sure about his path either. He had the advantage of knowing that at the other end of the deal was a load of beskar, but it still felt wrong to profit off the little one. The Child was a sweet innocent, and it scrapped against his honor to hand him over to anyone, much less the Imperial remnant. The Client had promised higher payment for the Child to be brought in alive, but the fact that he’d sent out other hunters to kill it meant that he didn’t really care. The scientist had seemed keen to keep it alive, but the Mandalorian knew that there was only so much the man could do. 

As he struggled with his conscious, he almost didn’t notice the ping from his comms. He hit the button to answer, and the holo of Greef Carga appeared before him. The other man was jovial. “ _Mando_! You did it!”

“Yes,” he answered softly.

Greef could not see the Courier, but the Mandalorian had briefed him on the change of crew. It was mandated by the Guild that extra crew had to be reported promptly. “So, you’ll be bringing a woman with you? I’ve already briefed the Client, and he’s chomping at the bit! I don’t know if he wants to eat it or what, but the Asset needs to get to this guy pronto!” He chuckled. “He was also intrigued that you’d picked up a woman as well. Is she pretty?”

The Mandalorian checked a need to look back at the woman that was currently growling from behind him. “We’re about thirty out.”

Greef nodded. “See you then.” He laughed again, a smarmy sound that rankled.

“Asshole,” the Courier muttered.

It was at that moment that the Mandalorian noticed the Child perched beside him. The little one had unscrewed a knob from his throttle and was about to put it in its mouth. “That’s not a toy,” he said gently, taking the knob.

The Child cooed, but submitted to being picked up by his scruff and placed back into his crib. “Your Guild master assumes I’m a prostitute,” the Courier said from behind him.

He grunted. “Not many women in the Guild. The ones that are had to fight their way in.”

She snorted. “So, why don’t we give him and the Client the whore they’re waiting for?”

That got him to turn. She was sitting forward, and placing her knitting aside. “Why?”

She cut her eyes to the Child, and then back to him. “They’re already expecting a prostitute, let’s give them a prostitute. I’d rather they not know the depths of my capabilities. And,” here she looked sheepish, “I’m an ex-Rebel Alliance spy. I don’t know if any of your bounty hunting buddies still have a problem with me, but I’d rather not push it.”

He nodded at that. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“You going to show me your face anytime soon?” she replied.

He grunted, and turned back to the controls as they approached the planet. “Fair.”

“Trust is earned,” she murmured. “Let me go pretty myself up. And keep in mind, just as there’s a lot about you that I don’t know, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know.”

* * *

It turned out that the Courier had an extensive makeup kit as part of her normal bug-out bag, and the Mandalorian found himself looking at someone completely new when she finally walked down the ramp. Instead of her dark bun, she had wavy blond hair that fell to her shoulders, and her dark eyes had become bright green. She’d also painted her face with heavy cosmetics, turning her naturally olive toned skin strangely pale, and her eyes were rimmed in heavy handed kohl. “How do I look, Good Lookin’?”

“Like a whore,” he said baldly. 

“Good, it’s what I was aiming for.” She walked up to the crib. The Child looked apprehensive. “Lead the way, boss.”

He turned on his heel, and led the two through the settlement. Along the way, he noticed that she also diverted attention away from the Child. The settlement was a rough place, and not a few men were eyeing her. One actually did ask how much she was. “She’s with me,” the Mandalorian said before she could answer.

The man shrugged and moved on.

When they got to the right dwelling. He allowed security to scan his card, and the door opened to admit two Stormtroopers. The Courier gasped, and grabbed his arm. He tensed, but thankfully she’d done so where he could see her. They looked over the trio before gesturing them inside. Down a dark hallway, and into the main meeting room they went. The Courier did not let go of the Mandalorian’s arm the entire time, but he did not shake her off. She was ex-Rebellion, and he’d just drug her into the lair of her old enemy without warning. The least he could do was let her keep a vice grip on his arm. 

The Client was up and grinning as he came towards the cradle with another fob. The incessant beeping was loud and shrill, and grew even worse as he approached. The scientist also came forward with a scanner. “Surprisingly healthy,” he stated with a grin.

The Client straightened. “You have done good work,” he stated, before looking the Courier up and down. “And I see you’ve found yourself a beautiful companion.”

“She was a great help with the Child.” He looked over to her. She’d come around him a bit, and was giving the Client a small coquettish smile. Her body language was relaxed, and she moved her hand down to his, holding his wrist loosely in what would appear to be an intimate gesture. 

“I see,” the Client said, but his eyes were on her slightly unbuttoned shirt. While the Mandalorian was more or less unaffected by her cleavage, apparently the Client was lured by it. “I had not planned to give her a separate cut, but I think I can make an exception.”

He pulled out a container, and then another cloth wrapped package. “It is good that I never told Carga what his exact pay was going to be.” From the pile of four beskar ingots he pulled two, and offered them to her. “For your service.”

“Thank you, good sir,” she said in a sultry tone. Behind his mask, the Mandalorian cocked a brow. She was laying it on a bit thick. Every male present watched as she tucked the ingots into her cleavage. The Client licked his lips, the scientist looked very uncomfortable, and one of the Stormtroopers adjusted his codpiece. For his part the Mandalorian resisted the need to sigh. 

Instead, he approached the table, and allowed the Client to open the container full of beskar. He pulled out one of the ingots, and held it up. He couldn’t believe that he was actually going to take it all. There was more than enough for a new cuirass, maybe even enough for gauntlets and greaves as well. But just as he was imagining a new suit, the Child cried out. It was a soft, gentle sound, but it sent a lance of pain through his heart. He looked up at the Child, and it met his eyes as the scientist led it from the room. The Courier waved sadly, and bit her painted lips. “What are your plans for it?” he asked softly.

The Client immediately became defensive. “You have taken commission and payment. It is no longer your concern.”

* * *

The Mandalorian was all but jogging through the streets of the settlement. The Courier trotted along beside him, the weight of the beskar in her bust band weighing on her. An Imperial remnant. A fucking Imperial remnant. She wanted to scream at him, but as soon as she’d seen what he had been offered as payment, she couldn’t blame him. The Empire had sponsored the destruction of Mandalore, terrorizing its citizens and forcing thousands off planet, if not outright murdering them. Beskar was sacred to the Mando’ade, and she honestly knew that if it had been her, she’d have done the same thing. 

He came to another dwelling and then looked back to her, as if he just remembered that she existed. “I have business here.” Then he turned and walked in. “Go back to the ship.”

She nodded, but something on the building caught her eye. She reached out, running her fingers along the script carved into the edge of the door jamb. “ _Yaim._ “

He stopped in his tracks, and turned to her. “What did you say?”

She looked back to the unforgiving visor of his helmet. She swallowed, knowing that she couldn’t hide this from him anymore. “It says _yaim_. Home. Are there . . . do you . . .” She stopped, pursing her lips. “If I had known that there were others with you, I would have been honest. I’ve run across loners before, but . . . you have a covert.”

He stepped back towards her. The Courier swallowed. It was a long shot, but one worth taking. “Do you . . . does your band have someone who can work beskar? An armorer?”

“How do you speak Mando’a?” he asked harshly. 

She hung her head. “I didn’t want to admit it . . . I . . . My father is a Mandalorian. He fled the fall of Mandalore to the Empire years ago. He met my mother, formed our family. But his armor was destroyed, and he was alone. He tried to raise all of us in the ways of the Mando’ade, but we have no armor. I love my family, and we lack nothing in this world, but . . . the desire’s always been there. To reconnect to what my father lost, for us to be able to embrace our culture fully. I’ve never called myself Mandalorian because deep down I’ve known that I’m not there yet. It’s one of the reasons I became a spy for the Rebels. I did not have the armor to fight Jedi, but I had the skills to defend myself if the need arose.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head. Suddenly, a lot of her behavior made sense. Anyone else would have run from the mud horn, but she’d refused to let her ally die alone. “Come with me.”

He took her arm, and she followed him down into the darkened halls of the covert. She tried not to feel nervous about the attention she was getting from the others in his covert. The Mandalorian did not say a word, just marched her down a long passage until she stood in front of a forge. A woman in red armor rose, her golden Nite Owl helmet watching the Courier with brutal intensity. “What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rang with quiet thunder.

The Mandalorian looked to the Courier. She took a deep breath before speaking. “I requested to see you, honorable one. I have a request to make on behalf of my family.”

“And what request would that be for you to entice one of our own to break our laws?” the Armorer said evenly. The Mandalorian set the container down on the table, and opened it. 

“Years ago my father was forced to flee Mandalore. He took only himself and his weapons. His ship was shot down by the Imperial Fleet over a small planet that had little in the way of infrastructure. He was injured severely, and his armor was all but destroyed. He was forced to stay there, but he married and began a family. We were all raised in the Way, the _Resol’nare_ , but we lack armor. As soon as we were able, we began to search for an armorer, but after the Purge . . . we could not find any. My father managed to get his armor repaired, and my elder two sisters received their armor, but my younger sisters and myself have none. Please, we have the beskar needed -“

“So this is what you have done?” a large man in heavy armor snarled. He’d pulled two of the ingots out, and examined them while the Courier had spoken. “You take payment from Imperial dogs and bring a _dar’manda_ woman into our midst?”

The Mandalorian shook his head. “The beskar was payment for services rendered, and she has become a part of my crew.”

The big man snorted. “And what right does that give you to bring her here?”

“Enough.” The Armorer looked back to the Courier. “The Empire is no more, and the beskar has returned to us. You should be lauding this day as well, Paz Vizla. The Purge broke us, tried to destroy who we are. For one of our own to find not only our sacred metal but also another tribe of our people . . . these are gifts too great to pass. Tell me, child, do you wish to join our people? To adhere to all aspects of the Way?”

She looked around, examining the members of the Mandalorian’s tribe from the adults to the children. “I suspect that our definitions of the Way are very different, I will not lie. While my father was not part of the New Mandalorian movement, he never taught us to be this . . . strict. But I was raised with the _Resol’are_.”

The Armorer inclined her head. “In the olden days those words would have been enough to convince me not to help, but these are desperate times. Bring your family here, and I will craft them armor.”

The Courier bowed. “Thank you.”

The Armorer nodded in reply, and turned to the Mandalorian. “As for you, this looks like enough to make a new cuirass as is appropriate to your station.”

“That would be good,” he replied. He turned to the Courier. “My companion was paid in beskar as well.”

The Courier pulled the two ingots from her bust band, and handed them over. “There are many small things I can make with this,” the Armorer said. She looked the Courier up and down. “Perhaps a gauntlet?”

The Courier nodded and smiled. “I would be honored.”

The Armorer turned, and began to work. The others filtered out, until only the Mandalorian and the Courier were left in the forge. “Thank you,” the Courier said softly.

He turned his head towards her. “Is there anything else I need to know about you in order for this partnership to continue?”

“I really think we shouldn’t have given up the Child, even for all the beskar in the galaxy,” she said softly, “My sisters include a Wookie, two Twi’leks, a Trandoshan, a Togruta, and four humans. My father cannot walk unassisted, and my mother has long since passed. I joined the Rebellion when I was sixteen, and was a spy for them for five years before the fall of the Emperor. I worked as a courier for my father’s company, but it’s really a front for our search for beskar, Mandalorians, and Imperial remnants. I was originally going to part ways with you and report back to my family that you were out here, and get them to come looking for others if there were any. I like spicy food.”

“And you know Mando’a?”

“Yes. I thought we established this.”

“. . . Then you knew what I was really calling you while we repaired the Razor Crest.”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me then?”

“And ruin a perfectly sweet nickname? I liked being called Little Singer.”

As was his wont, the Mandalorian just sighed.

* * *

They walked back through the settlement, but not in the direction of where the Imperial remnant was. Instead, they were going to the far side of the little town. “Where are we off to now?” the Courier asked, trying not to admire her shiny new gauntlet like an excited child.

“To get another job,” the Mandalorian replied. She was also trying not to stare at his new, shiny armor. He glowed in the sunlight, and she couldn’t help but admire the figure he cut as they walked through the market. He gestured with his head towards a cantina. “It’s time for us to get off this planet.”

The Courier gave him a sympathetic look. “The Child is weighing on you too.”

He grunted, but did not answer. He led the way inside, and endured Carga’s over enthused greeting. “Mando! There’s my most valuable hunter! They all tried but you! You sealed the deal.” His dark eyes turned to the woman at the Mandalorian’s side. “And this must be your new crew mate.”

The Courier gave him that same coquettish smile she’d leveled at the Client. She finger waved, and sat daintily beside the Mandalorian. “What would a man have to do to lure you away from Mando here?” Carga said with a guttural growl.

“Quite a bit,” she purred. 

“Why don’t I take both of you out?” Carga began, but the Mandalorian cut him off. “I want my next job.”

“Come on! You have time to party a little -“

“No thank you.”

Carga laughed awkwardly, and looked over at the Courier. “Well, I guess when the party is always with you . . .” He pulled out three pucks. “These are all we have right now. The highest is five thousand.”

“I’ll take it,” the Mandalorian said. He rose, and the Courier followed him up. He took one step away from the table before asking in a small voice. “What do you think they’re going to do with it?”

Carga looked up. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. If it bothers you so much, have your woman help you forget.”

* * *

The Courier was silent until they returned to the ship. She followed him all the way into the cockpit, and then sat patiently while he primed the engines and ship’s systems. “Are we really just going to leave it?”

He stopped, his hand hovering over the throttle with no knob. He slowly screwed it back on, not saying a word to her. He finally pushed the lever forward, but stopped. A moment passed in tense contemplation before he pulled the throttle back, and began hitting the switches to turn the ship’s engines back off. The Courier scrambled up, and went below. He followed a moment later, and found her strapping her vibroblade and blaster on over her serviceable canvas pants and under her billowy green shirt. She was kept the wig on, and nodded to him. “Let’s go.”

They left the Razor Crest, and strode with purpose back towards the dwelling that housed the Client. They went through a back alley, and stopped beside a dumpster. Inside was the hover cradle, and the little one’s blanket. The Courier picked up the blanket, and shook it out. “No blood,” she whispered.

Up the side of the building across the street they went, and the Mandalorian used his armor’s advanced listening devices to get a bead on a conversation happening inside the dwelling. “The Client and his scientist are talking,” he murmured aloud. “The Client is telling the scientist to take what he needs and then dispose of the Child.”

“We have to move fast,” she replied. “Lure the two front door guards out. I’ll deal with them while you go round the back.”

“I’ll go in and retrieve the Child. You wait for us out front.” He looked to her. “Are you sure you can handle two Stormtroopers by yourself?”

“I understand their training and procedures. Trust me, I know how to take them out.” She gave him a smile and held up her right arm. “And I’ve got a new toy to play with. Go get the kid.”

He turned away, but she called out. “Hey.”

He turned back to her. “Yes?”

“When this is over, maybe we trade names, yeah?” She smiled at him. “I don’t usually go on dangerous missions with nameless men.”

He nodded. “When this is over.”

* * *

The rescue went off without a hitch. As soon as he cleared the front door, the Courier was back by his side. She looked over at the bundle in his arms and smiled. “How is he? Is he okay?”

The Child hooted at her voice, and then settled back down to sleep. “I think they gave him a sedative.”

“Well, it works in our favor,” she replied. “It’ll keep him quiet so . . . we . . .”

“I know,” the Mandalorian whispered. As they’d moved through the town, they’d steadily picked up a few hangers-on. Some of them he actively recognized as members of the Guild. The Courier kept a hand on her blaster’s hilt as they moved into the courtyard right in front of the space port. 

“Going somewhere?” Greef Carga called as he stepped into their path. 

“Yes, to my ship.” The Mandalorian said. The Courier flanked him, but she faced out towards a line of their antagonists. They were all kinds of beings, but her face stayed stony in the face of the now very long odds in front of them. The Mandalorian had already used his whistling birds, and had only a few left. They would not make a dent in the wall of bounty hunters that surrounded them. 

“I don’t think so. That is the biggest bounty this guild has seen in years, and I’m not going to let you give it up. Put the kid on the speeder, and we’ll let you go on your merry way.” Carga pointed a blaster right at them.

The Mandalorian turned to look at the Courier, and she nodded. He approached the speeder, the Courier at his side. “Now.”

Both of them pulled their blasters, and fired into the group of bounty hunters. The Courier lunged into the speeder first, and the Mandalorian followed. The boxes gave them some cover, but the blaster fire was relentless. The Mandalorian growled at the droid that drove the thing. “Drive!”

It beeped at him, but the Courier aimed her blaster at it. “Now!”

With a panicked beep, it lurched forward. The Mandalorian stayed on his stomach, covering their rear. The Courier was on her back beside him, taking care of their front and picking off a couple of hunters that had scaled the surrounding walls. Suddenly, the droid shrieked and the speeder lurched back to a halt. The Courier cried out as a stray blast grazed her side, but she merely snarled a curse before returning fire. The Mandalorian pulled his rifle, and took a few shots, but that only made the remaining hunters fade back under cover. There was an eerie moment of silence before the Courier began shooting at the group of hunters that had tried to sneak up on them. Then, the hail of fire began again. 

“This is not good,” the Courier growled, but there was an edge of fear to her tone. 

The Mandalorian looked to her, and then to the Child that he still cradled beneath his chest. He petted its head as the little one opened its big eyes. “I’m sorry little one.”

He looked back to the Courier. She was giving him a bittersweet smile. “Well, we tried, that’s all that mattered.” She reached over and ran one knuckle down the kid’s cheek. 

“Din Djarin.”

“What?” She blinked rapidly.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he said evenly.

Realizing what he was about, she smiled. “Well, Din Djarin, I couldn’t ask for a better man to die with.”

He nodded, looking back down at the Child. It blinked up at him, and cooed as its heavy eyes fell back down. “Your name?”

She laughed softly. “Bowri. Bowri Akaad.”

He was about to say something else, when a bright flash drew their eyes. It landed amongst their attackers, exploding and scattering them. The two in the speeder looked up, and Akaad laughed. Mandalorians rose up into the sky, their signature jetpacks keeping them far above their opponents. The bounty hunters scattered, and Djarin watched Paz Vizsla land not far from their hiding place. The big man nodded to him, and Djarin felt his chest constrict. “We’ll have to move the covert.”

Vizsla nodded. “We know. This is the way.”

“This is the way,” Djarin echoed. He slid out of the speeder, reaching back for Akaad. “Thank you.”

Vizsla laughed. “Go! Get out of here! We’ll send you the coordinates for our new covert.”

“Wait!” Akaad said. “Go to the planet Diwal’ii. Ask anyone for Old Man Akaad. My father will shelter you.”

The big man nodded. “I will tell the Armorer. This is the Way.”

“Thank you!” Akaad called out as she let Djarin pull her along behind him. They raced through the carnage and arrived at the Razor Crest intact. Before they could get to the cockpit, a loud clang alerted them that they were not alone. They whirled around, and Djarin realized that they were right next to his carbonite freezer. 

“Hand it over,” Carga called out. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Akaad and Djarin shared a look. “Yes,” she said, “it did.”

Djarin used his grappling hook to hit the controls for his carbonite freezer, and the space filled with smoke. They both ducked back, and he used the cover to shoot Carga in the chest. The man fell from the ship, and Akaad hit the button for the ramp to close. They both swung up into the cockpit, and he got them up into the air as quickly as he could. They ascended smoothly, and she began to laugh. “We did it!”

The Child gurgled from its perch in Djarin’s lap.

They flew for a while before movement out of the window caused them to look over. Paz Vizsla flew beside them, and saluted them before banking back towards the ground. “I’ve got to get one of those,” Djarin said softly.

From his feet, the Child reached up, and felt around. Knowing just what the little one wanted, he unscrewed the knob from his throttle, and dropped the little ball back into the Child’s hand. The Child chortled with glee, and there was silence on the bridge for a moment.

“Dammit, Djarin! Don’t give the baby choking hazards!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I caved and decided just to straight up make her of Mandalorian descent. *shrugs* I had fun though.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The little womp rat.

“We should name him.”

“Why?”

“Because he needs a name?”

Djarin turned to face her, but did not say anything in response.

Akaad was about to say something else, but the engine’s shuddered as the Child hit a switch on the other side of Djarin. He turned back and flipped a few more in order to undo what the little one had done. “Don’t touch anything.”

“You know -“ Akaad stopped when she spied the little one looking right up at Djarin. He reached out slowly with one finger, as if daring the Mandalorian to stop him. She said nothing, instead deciding to bite her lips as the kid hit the switch, and caused Djarin to finally pick him up. She giggled, and the baby cooed in contentment.

“Alright you little womp rat,” Djarin murmured, “how about Sorgan?”

“Sure, ask the toddler,” Akaad groused. “Not the grown ass woman sitting right behind you.”

“I’d ask the grown ass woman behind me if she actually acted her age and not her boot size.”

Her outraged gasp was satisfying after having to listen to her harangue him for a good twenty minutes about giving babies choking hazards. “You sir, are an asshole.”

He did not dignify that with a reply. “No space port, barely any population. Sounds like a good place to stretch our legs, eh?”

She was still grumbling a half hour later when he finally rose from his seat. He was still cuddling the little one close to his chest, and Akaad met that with a raised brow. He handed her the child. “Stay here. I’ll find us lodgings and then come back for you.”

He turned, and went below. As he was opening the ramp, he heard Akaad step up beside him. When he turned to look, she stood with her arms akimbo and the Child was blinking up at him from his feet. “The last time we left you alone to do something you pissed off a mudhorn.”

Oh, he was tempted to curse. He was already regretting bringing her along, especially because the longer he was in her company, the more he grew to crave it. After spending the last twenty-nine years doing his level best to keep other people at a distance, he was letting this woman and this toddler slowly creep under his skin, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. Well, the kid was already firmly established. The woman . . . “Oh what the hell,” he said, leading the way into the forest.

The walk to the little settlement was not long. The buildings were wooden, made of woven wattle. A quick question to a young man standing beside a hunting dog pointed them towards the village inn. They walked through, the locals giving them curious looks. It wasn’t often that they saw a Mandalorian, a Courier, and a toddler walking into a bar.

Djarin picked the little one up, and set him in a chair. Akaad slid in on the other side of the baby as he took his seat. The lady at the bar nodded, “One moment!”

He glanced back, and his eyes landed on a woman sitting by herself on the other side of the room. She was a big woman, wide and strong, wearing black tactical gear. She sat with a feigned relaxed posture, her legs loose, arms fluid, but he knew that she could fly into a fight at a moment’s notice. His hackles were being raised by her proximity.

“Hello!” the barmaid said jovially, breaking Djarin from his contemplation of a possible threat. She was a sweet looking middle aged woman, her hair gathered beneath a scarf atop her head. “What can I do for you?”

“Broth for the little one.” He nodded to Akaad.

She smiled up at the woman. “I would like some broth too. Do you happen to have anything to drink?”

“You two are in luck, fresh meat tonight. Spotchka alright to drink?”

“Never had it, but I’m willing to try it,” Akaad answered.

“And for you?” the barmaid asked Djarin.

He shook his head. “Just them. Nothing for me.” He nodded to the upsetting woman. “What’s her business here?”

The barmaid looked nonplussed, and glanced over to the woman in question. Akaad cocked a brow at him, but ultimately said nothing. “I don’t know.”

“How long has she been here?”

“I . . . well, I’ve seen her here everyday this week,” the barmaid answered, her voice taking on a considering tone. “Buys a few drinks just like everyone else.”

He pulled out a few credits, and slid them across the table to the barmaid. The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh! Well thank you sir! I’ll have your porringers and drink in one moment!” She hurried off, obviously pleased with the extra money.

Akaad chuckled. “Not everyone recognizes a bribe out in the boonies, Djarin.”

He looked back to the suspicious woman, who was gone. He surged to his feet, his instincts screaming at him to investigate. To find the threat and neutralize it. He would let nothing harm his child. “Stay with the kid,” he murmured before striding out to find the strange woman.

Back at the table, Akaad looked over to the toddler. “So, do we go after him now, or wait for our broth?”

The Child gurgled.

“You’re right, let’s let him get his ass kicked around a little, then we’ll come to the rescue.” She smiled up at the woman as she brought over the requested food. “Thank you.”

The broth was warm and salty, and oh so good. The spotchka turned out to be a bright blue color, with a strange alcoholic taste. It was both sweet and vaguely woodsy, but without the bitterness of tannins or hops. “What is spotchka made from?”

The barmaid smiled. “Fermented blue krill.”

Akaad swallowed, then licked her teeth in thought. Then she frowned and nodded. “Not bad.” She took another sip and looked over at her diminutive companion. “Ready to go bail out _buiri_ , enh?”

The child let her set him down, but kept a hold of his porringer of broth as she brought out her cup of spotchka. They both walked outside, and followed the sounds of grunting. Djarin was rolling around with a muscular woman, and it looked like he wasn’t doing a bad job of holding his own. Right as the two rolled, pulling their blasters, she and the Child both took noisy sips of their drinks. “So, Good Lookin’, you done?”

He and the woman replied in unison. “Yeah.”

Akaad laughed and looked down at the Child. “I was talking to the Mandalorian, but hey, you’re pretty too.”

Djarin looked up at the woman he’d been fighting. “You want some soup?”

The woman looked between the two of them and smiled. “Yeah, yeah I could go for some soup.”

* * *

“So we’re just going to let this Cara Dune run us off planet?” Akaad asked later. They’d returned to the _Razor’s Crest_ , but had not left Sorgan yet. 

“She is a formidable opponent. We’ll go to the other side of the planet, but I’m not willing to court her ire here.”

She nodded. “Fair.” She tapped his arm and held out the covered containers that she’d carried back from the bar. “I bought some spotchka and soup to go. Go on inside and eat. I’ll take a look at that sticky landing gear.”

He took the containers, but Djarin spent a long moment staring down at her. “Yes? Did I miss some kohl or something?”

He just shook his head, and turned to go inside. She smiled, pleased that he wasn’t fighting her anymore. If he had his druthers, Djarin would just sneak those gods-awful protein ration bars that he bought by the case. She’d been horrified to find them in his hold while she was changing after they left the other planet behind. She didn’t fully understand his tribe, but surely some of them actually knew how to cook. She looked down at the Child. “Those poor dears. I wonder just what his tribe went through. I understand not removing the helm in public, but they didn’t even take it off in their covert. That’s . . . that’s some crazy dedication.”

The Child just cooed.

“Come on, let’s take a look at this gear.” She leaned in, examining the mechanical parts. It looked like a plan maintenance issue - some stray oil that was too viscous for the job was gumming it all up - but it would take about an hour to fix. They’d returned just before dark, so she knew they wouldn’t be able to leave until morning at least. Surface flying during a night cycle without proper lights was asking for an accident. While they might not hit someone else, a hill or tree would not be forgiving at all. 

“Um, hello?”

Akaad turned, and examined the two men behind her with a wary eye. They were dressed like poor farmers, and escorted a speeder that looked like it had seen better days. “Can I help you?”

The one that wore a turban looked to the one who wore his hair long. He shrugged, and then turned back to her. “Um, we heard in town that a Mandalorian had set down here.”

“And what’s it to you?” she pressed, wiping her hands off with a rag.

“We need help. We got together all of our savings,” the turbaned one said.

“Bandits have raided our village, and we need someone to take care of them,” Long Hair agreed.

She held out her hand, and they placed the bag in her open palm. “. . . This is chump change.”

They shared a stricken look. “It’s all we have. Please! They’ve taken an entire harvest of our blue krill -“

“Wait, the stuff they make spotchka out of?” she asked curiously. The Child cooed.

Turban blinked at her. “Um, yes?”

She frowned and nodded. “Let me go see what the boss thinks.” She knocked on the hull, and the ramp came down. She kept her eyes down cast. “Hey -“

“The answer is no.”

She looked up, able to tell from his voice that his helmet was firmly in place. “What do you mean no? I haven’t even asked yet.”

“They want a mercenary to take care of their raider problem. You said the payment is chump change. No.” He walked down the ramp, and crossed his arms at the two men. 

Turban looked at Long Hair and sighed. “Great. Now we get to walk all night back to the village.”

They turned and took about two steps before Djarin called out, “Your village is remote?”

Long Hair looked back and nodded. “Yeah. It’s a day’s journey to any other settlement. We’ve been walking since before we saw your ship this morning to report the attack to the village here.”

Djarin turned to her. “Start loading our gear up on the speeder. There’s something else we need.”

* * *

The something else turned out to be Cara Dune. “So, why pick me up?”

“Insurance,” Djarin replied, glancing between her and Akaad. The other woman did not look pleased to have Dune along, even as she sat with the Child beside him. 

Dune gestured to Akaad with her chin. “What are you to him anyway? You never said before.”

“I’m part of his crew,” she replied to the other woman. Akaad cut her eyes to Djarin. “Or at least, I thought I was.”

“You are. I am just taking a page from your book. The raiders will focus on Cara Dune and me - we’re the obvious threats. You on the other hand look like you’re just my . . . bedmate.”

Dune cocked a brow. “Who even says that?”

Akaad rolled her eyes. “I know! I half think you and your tribe are refugees from another time. Bedmate? Really?”

He stayed silent, but he knew he was blushing beneath the mask. While he was not completely inexperienced with sex, it was not an activity he engaged in with any regularity. 

“So,” Dune began, “You’re not his girlfriend?”

Akaad made a face. “No. But I see why you want to keep pretending I am. Scouts will underestimate our strength.”

“Will they now?” Dune asked.

“She’s Mandalorian too,” Djarin finally said. He felt the weight of Akaad’s gaze as he continued. “She comes from a different tribe than me. She is well trained and will be an asset in this.”

The other woman gave her an appraising look. “I believe you. And the kid?”

The two partners just stared. Dune finally shrugged. “Okay, duly noted. Don’t ask about the kid.”

“This should be an easy job,” Djarin continued, skirting the subject. “Lay low in a remote village and run off some bandits.” He leaned back, stretching his arms out along the rim of the speeder’s bed. The two villagers had kindly loaded some sacks that made a comfortable bed. Akaad laid back as well, resting her head on Djarin’s arm. The Child snuggled between them.

Cara Dune cocked a brow at the tableau they made. If their goal was to confuse everyone they were succeeding. They insisted that they were not together romantically, but they way they treated each other was mildly flirtatious. Well, she thought it was flirtatious. Akaad called him ‘Good Lookin’ and Djarin didn’t shoot her every time she smarted off to him. It could just be the banter of friends, but she felt that there might be something more there. Instead of continuing to ruminate on the circumstances of her new partners, she settled back to go to sleep herself. 

* * *

It was the sounds human voices that woke Djarin the next morning. He didn’t sit straight up, mostly because he had a toddler curled up on his chest. The Child had migrated from beside him to on top of him sometime during the night, but he didn’t mind. Akaad was laid out beside him, her cheek pressed into his armpit, and her arm around his waist. She’d slid down during the night, but he’d not woken for it. That concerned him. 

However before he could continue being concerned, the speeder stopped smoothly. Children came running, converging on the speeder to gawk at the Child. He gurgled at them, having awakened just a moment after his father, and sliding down to the other side of him. Djarin leaned up, and Akaad went with him. She was awake, but in an awkward position that had required some help. She looked around, her dark eyes heavy-lidded from sleep. There was also an edge in her eyes, as if she was also disconcerted with the situation too. 

“We found help!” one of the villagers crowed. “This is Din Djarin, Bowri Akaad, and Cara Dune. They’re here to help us.”

The villagers converged on them, but were more than happy to help settle them in. Djarin was shown to a barn, while Dune and Akaad were shown to a house nearby. As he unload his supplies, he stumbled upon a woman opening the windows. “Hello,” she said softly. “I’m sorry that all we have for you is the barn.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, a little flustered. In the last three days he’d interacted with more women for a longer time than he’d ever in his life. In his tribe there was only the Armorer, but she more or less didn’t count because one, she was their Armorer and thus more like a mother than anything else, and two, she didn’t really count as a woman to most of the tribe anyway. She just was. But since he’d met Akaad five days ago he’d spoken to more eligible young women than he’d ever done in his entire life. 

She smiled. “I am Omera. Thank you, for coming to help us.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye startled Djarin into action. “Whoa!” Omera cried out. “It’s okay.” She hurried over to the door and came back with a young girl in tow. “This is my daughter Winta. She’s not used to visitors.”

He put down his blaster, and Omera smiled again. “Come along Winta. Let’s let our guest settle in.”

As they descended the steps, Akaad approached. “Hello! I meant to ask, when do you serve the midday meal?”

“In three hours,” Omera replied, her arms around Winta.

Akaad smiled. “Would you mind bringing a plate to the barn? Djarin cannot dine with us.”

“Why not?” Winta asked, her voice soft. Timid.

Akaad’s expression was kind. “It is against his religion to remove his helmet in public. Since this is not his home, he must keep it on.”

“But how does he eat?” the young girl continued.

“He is allowed to take off the helmet to eat and bathe,” Akaad said with a chuckle. “But he can’t do those things in front of anyone. So, we have to let him have his privacy.”

Omera nodded. “I will make sure to bring him a plate.”

“Thank you,” Akaad said, passing her to come into the barn. She tweaked one of the Child’s ears, and gave Djarin a smile. “Dune said she wants to go scouting after the midday meal. Are you going to be up for that?”

“I will be ready,” Djarin said. He watched her coo at the Child for a few moments before turning back to unpacking his supplies. His mind kept returning to the moment he’d glanced down to see her curled so close to his side. It had been . . . nice. If he was honest with himself, he did not mind at all that she was so familiar with him. He had started to crave not just her company, but her closeness. At the same time, it terrified him. He had not wanted closeness with anyone in so long that to suddenly find himself all but adopting a child and growing closer to a woman was overwhelming.

So, he pushed it aside and focused on his mission. He had been hired to protect the village, so that was what he was going to do. He and Dune would go scouting this afternoon, and he’d have Akaad stay behind and learn the lay of the land. He needed to know if there were an villagers worth training, and she would have the experience with what he required. He was about to ask her to do that when he realized that she was singing. 

“ _Ba’jur bal beskar’gam,_ “ she sang, tapping her head and gesturing down to the rest of her body. 

“ _Ara’nov, aliit_ ,” she continued, sliding her hands across one another. On the second word she touched her pointer fingers together and then drew two flat circles in the air until her fingers touched again.

“ _Mando’a bal Mand’alor,_ “ she sang, tapping her mouth and then putting a hand over her heart.”

“ _An vencuyan mhi._ “ she finished, taking the hand over her heart, and placing it in her other.

She was teaching the Child the _Resol’nare_. She sang the song again, doing the hand motions as well. Djarin had learned the rhyme when he was young, but the actual song and motions were completely new to him. Astonishingly, the Child’s lips turned up a bit in what was a smile for him. Then, he began to mirror her. He did not sing the words - neither of them had any idea when the Child would become verbal if ever - but he mimed her hand gestures as best he could. He giggled, apparently quite pleased with himself.

“Yay! That’s my good boy!” she said in that saccharine voice she sometimes used for the Child. “You did so good!” She looked to Djarin. “Didn’t our _ik’aad_ do so well?”

Djarin swallowed, a lump in his throat. She was competent and kind, fiery when she needed to be. Every meal he’d eaten for the last four days she had provided, sometimes going out of her way to make sure that he could eat. She challenged him, cared for him, made him feel less alone. And now here she was, teaching the Child, _his son_ , the ways of their people. She did not call herself Mandalorian because of her lack of armor, but he knew better. She was not _dar’manda_ as Paz Vizsla had so cruelly snarled, she was most definitely Mando’ade.

And he was infatuated with her.

“Yes,” he finally said. “The little one did very well.”

“Can we sing it once with _buiri_?” she asked with a smile.

He nodded, and joined in. 

_Education and armor, self-defense, our tribe, our language and our leader - all help us survive._

* * *

Omera and Winta brought Jarren his midday meal. Winta peeked out from around her mother, and stared at the Child. “Can I feed him?”

Djarin nodded. “Sure.”

The little girl fed the baby a few pieces of food, giggling at the cuteness. Akaad stood outside the door, and peeked in to grin at them. “Can I play with him?”

“Sure,” Djarin said, stepping forward to pick the little one up and put him down on the floor to play. Winta led the little one outside, but anxiety hit Djarin. “I don’t think-“

Omera put up a hand. “They’re alright.”

He tried to step around her. “But I-“

“They’ll be alright, Good Lookin’,” Akaad called as she stepped down with the two children. 

Omera cocked her head. She set down the plate she’d brought for Djarin, and asked, “When’s the last time you took off your helmet?”

“Yesterday,” he replied.

She shook her head. “Around other people.”

He looked out the window at the children playing beside the barn. Akaad was there with them, laughing and teaching them to do a dance. “I was about their age. My parents were killed in an attack. The Mandalorians took me in.”

She bit her lip, and nodded. “Then I’ll leave you to your meal.” She turned and walked out.

Finally alone, Djarin took off his helmet, and carefully placed it on the window sill. He sat down, watching the children and Akaad as he ate. She was teaching them a song to go along with their dance, and he snorted when he realized what song was. 

“ _Naasad’guur mhi, naasad’guur mhi, Naasad’guur mhi!_ “

Maybe next time she shouldn’t teach them a drinking song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of your lovely comments made my day yesterday. Thank you to everyone who has commented so far. It means a lot to me, especially at this time of year when life is so stressful.
> 
> Also, please note that I'm throwing a lot of Mando'a in here, and making up some words since they don't exist in what was developed already.
> 
> ~~
> 
> buiri - "daddy" (my creation)
> 
> ik'aad - baby, child under 3
> 
> "Ba'jur . . ." - the rhyme is translated at the end of the section
> 
> "Naasad'guur mhi . . ." - No one likes us . . . . From a Mandalorian drinking song


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walls start going up and tumbling down.

“You have to leave.”

Akaad put her face in her hand. “Good Lookin’, there’s this thing called tact. You need some.”

He turned to her as Dune snorted. “Do you think you can do better?” he asked the other woman.

Dune shrugged. “I can’t do much worse.” She stepped up, and looked out on the gathered villagers. “AT-STs are dangerous, and we don’t have the equipment to take one down. You all have to leave.”

“We have no where else to go,” Omera said.

“My grandfathers seeded these ponds! They’re all we have!”

“Where would we go? They’ll just follow!”

Akaad tapped Djarin on the shoulder. He glanced down to her, and she smiled. “There’s got to be something we can do. These people aren’t like us. They can’t just be expected to uproot and run.”

Djarin looked back out to the crowd, then to the ponds beyond them. He touched Dune’s shoulder, and pointed to the ponds. “How deep would a pit fall need to be?”

“At least a couple meters . . . Those pools aren’t deep enough,” she replied.

“But they can be made deep enough,” Akaad pointed out. The villagers quieted, realizing that the three hired guns were debating something.

“It would take a couple of days,” Dune said, scratching her chin, “but we could probably dig out a couple more meters. What do you think? Drain a pond and then dig it out?”

“They divert water from the river over there. Shouldn’t be hard to dam up that one pond and dig it out. While they’re doing that, we can train a few to help us,” Akaad agreed. 

Dune and Akaad shared a long look, then they turned to Djarin. He was silent for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll train whoever can shoot. Dune, you can train them in hand to hand.” He took a long look at Akaad.

She smiled. “Don’t worry, Good Lookin’, I’ll supervise the defenses. We’re going to need some sort of palisade or screen to encourage the thing to go where we want it to. You two take anyone who looks like they’ll be useful in a fight. I’ll take everyone else.”

Their roles decided, they got to work. Omera and several of the villagers who knew how to use bows and arrows went off with Djarin to set up an improvised firing range. Dune took several villagers to find sturdy sticks to make hand fashioned spears. Akaad took everyone else, including the children, to start working on their barriers. “Alright, Tyli, I want you to split your men up into three groups. We need thin trees with sturdy trunks. About two hand spans in width.”

“Shouldn’t we get thicker ones?” one of the other men asked.

She shook her head. “Too unwieldy, and anyway, any large obstacle will deter the AT-ST. They’re armored to hell and back, but they are limited in movement. As long as the logs are sharpened and tall enough, it won’t be able to get over or through them. It’ll be forced to go around.”

“What’s to stop it from just going around the back?” another man asked.

Akaad smiled. “Well, that’s why we need three crews. We need to surround the entire village. And before anyone groans - we can leave the logs up. These bastards are not the only raiders you’ll ever see. This village has been lucky in the past, but the galaxy has gotten extra crazy here lately. Some added protection never hurts.”

They nodded at the practicality. Tyli split up his men, and Akaad had the others begin on the pond. The children were put to work gathering up the krill as best they could. They would lose the tiniest spawn floating in the water, but in the end they were an acceptable sacrifice. The adults were damming up the water valves that allowed fresh water to cycle in the pond every day. By the time evening rolled in, the larger krill had been moved to other ponds, the water dammed up, and the first few logs gathered. Dune’s men had finished their rudimentary spears, and a shooting range had been set up using logs and spare pans. 

Dinner was lively, the people jubilant over the work they’d done. They were all pleasantly exhausted, but optimistic that their three mercenaries’ plan would work. The villagers ate together out in the center of the village, but Akaad had again made sure to bring Djarin a plate back to the barn. She went to close the door, but Djarin stopped her. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Sit beneath the window.”

She blinked but nodded. “Okay.” She walked down, and found that he’d already set out two chairs and a small table. Akaad sat down, and Dune sat down with her. “So, he said something to you too?”

Dune snorted. “I was curious what this was about.”

“It’s so I can talk to both of you.”

Dune went to turn, but Akaad reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t look back.”

“Wha- why?” Then a look of understanding dawned. “He doesn’t have his helmet on does he?”

Akaad shook her head. “It’s alright, I’m sitting away from the window,”Djarin said.

“Okay.” Dune settled back down and kicked up her feet on a barrel. “So, what’re we talking about?”

Djarin didn’t answer for a long moment, but Akaad smiled. “We only worked for a few hours, but I think we’ve gotten a lot done. I guesstimate that it’ll take us about a week at this rate.”

Dune snorted. “I may just make something of my men yet, but a week might be pushing it.”

“They are going to need time to finish daily tasks too,” Djarin pointed out. 

She shrugged. “True.”

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes as they ate. Dune was done first, and took a hearty draught of her spotchka. “So, what’s your story?”

“Hmm?” Akaad asked.

“I told you about me the other day. Your turn.”

She chuckled. “You ever been to Diwal’ii?”

Dune’s eye brow quirked. “That’s out near old Mandalorian space right?”

Akaad nodded. “It’s an Outer Rim world a few days out from Mandalore. What do you know about it?”

Dune frowned. “Never been myself, but I know it was an old black market slave port. Had a friend of mine get sent there to put a stop to it. Apparently, he got their just to find that no slaves had gone through the ports there in over twenty years. It’s controlled by a man known only as Old Ak-“ She stopped. 

“Old Akaad.” Akaad finished. “I call him _Buiri_ though. My father and mother led a rebellion of the free peoples and slaves about twenty-five years ago. My family is more or less the final authority, though each continent and region has their own leaders. _Buiri_ doesn’t call himself the king or anything, but between his status as a Mandalorian and their savior, most people on the planet respect the hell out of him.”

“Do you call him _Mand’alor_?” Djarin asked.

She shook her head and then remembered that he couldn’t see her. “No, _Buiri_ said that since he’s not leading Mandalorians that taking the title would be the height of hubris. He considers himself a guardian, not a leader. If you’re looking for an actual leader, that would be my sister Genevra. He sends any petitioners to her.”

Dune snorted. “So basically you’re royalty?”

Akaad laughed. “Gods of my fathers, no. I’m just a good man’s daughter.”

* * *

The first afternoon of training went abysmally. Dune’s spearmen were timid and she had to correct their stances repeatedly. The only one of Djarin’s gunners who could hit the broad side of a barn was Omera. Akaad tried not to let that bother her, but it was hard. The way he’d stopped and stared had looked a lot like interest. She had not thought too much on her relationship to Djarin - she was used to being part of a crew so it wasn’t as much of a culture shock as it had been to him - but she had noticed an increasing tendency towards jealousy. She didn’t like that he admired Omera, and she didn’t like that his first thought upon taking this job had been to retrieve Cara Dune. 

She’d managed to push that feeling away for the entire day, focusing instead on her tasks. A team of villagers worked with her around the clock to get the defenses up and to help dig. The soil in the drained pond was so saturated with water that it continued to back fill with water that had to be pumped out with the ancient machine the village owned. It was hard, exhausting work, and by the end of the day she was as muddy as she had been that time they’d faced down the mudhorn. 

The villagers did not have individual refreshers, but instead a communal bathing house. One side was devoted to women, the other side to men. They rinsed first, simple piping and a water heater bringing them fresh water to shower with before they sank into two more pools to soak. The pools were lined with concrete, but painted in soothing blues. Akaad washed herself quickly, and slipped into the warm water of the bathing pool. 

Now unable to escape her whirling thoughts, she took the time to contemplate why exactly she was so resentful of Omera and Dune. Maybe it was because she felt like he’d never acknowledged how capable she was. He’d never stared at her in awe, never invited her on an adventure . . . wait, he had. He had invited her to be part of his crew, and not on a temporary basis. She was his crew mate. But then she circled back to Omera. “Gods of my fathers,” she growled, “I’m being such a whiney baby!”

She ducked her head under the water, and then came back up. She had to face facts. If Djarin wanted to fall in love and get married to the pretty widow who was his age, and perfectly mature then - “Oh my gods!” she snapped, splashing in anger. “Why do I care?”

But the answer stared her in the face. She’d come across other loners before, Mandalorians who had been disconnected from their clans and tribes. They’d flocked to Diwal’ii after being found, glad to find a covert welcoming to strangers. Many of them were older males, ready to pass on their knowledge, but many too damaged by what they’d seen to feel comfortable forming families. Genevra had a relationship with one of the loners, but she often watched him disappear into the sky in search of bounties, only seeing his face by the light of the stars and the pads of her fingers. It worked for Genevra, but Bowri could not bring herself to live like that. And all the loners were like that. They did not connect with anyone, and could not care for anyone in a soul deep way. They were glad of the community, but they contributed only the lightest relationships to it. They were allies, maybe sometimes lovers, but they were not fathers and husbands. 

Din Djarin was different. He held a child close to him with affection and tentative love. He befriended others at the drop of the hat, searching vainly for relationships that would survive his next job. He was a blind man desperately trying to see, but in time he wouldn’t be blind anymore. He was ready to love and be loved in return, he just had little idea of how to go about it, or was scared to do it.

The reason she was so jealous was because she was infatuated with him.

She sighed. At that moment, she heard two more voices. She recognized Cara Dune and Omera, and they were in the main chamber in moments. Both had sopping hair and the fresh scrubbed skin of the freshly bathed. The villagers did not mind nudity in the bath house, but Akaad wasn’t so sure she could deal with them right now. Not with her emotions so open and raw. “There you are,” Dune said jovially. “I was looking all over for you.”

“What did you need?” she asked lightly. She had to pull on all of her years as a spy to look convincing.

At this, Dune looked slightly uncomfortable. “I . . . well, I kinda wanted to hang out with you and Omera. I . . . don’t get to do that a lot.”

“What, hang out with people?” Akaad asked.

“No . . . hang out with other women, you know? I loved being a shock trooper, don’t get me wrong, but I missed being able to talk about girly shit too.”

“It’s been years since I’ve talked about ‘girly shit’ as you put it,” Omera said with chuckle. “I don’t have many friends among the others. I help, I speak with them, but I have not befriended anyone in particular.”

Akaad found it a little easier to smile at this. “Oh, I need to bring you two to meet my sisters. My poor father is the only male in the compound. . . . Well, except for the cat. He’s male.”

“Cara, what kind of girly things do you like?” Omera began, her eyes sparkling as she slid into the water.

Dune threw back her head and laughed before she joined them in the pool. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but make up! I love cosmetics.” She held out her hand, examining her neatly trimmed nails. “I haven’t lacquered my nails in ages.”

“Oh, I’ve never had my nails lacquered,” Omera said. She was smiling. “We don’t get much use for make up out here.”

“Not even for festival days?’ Akaad asked, her reticence draining away. It was hard to stay mad - mad? was she mad? - at the other two when they were being so charmingly candid. 

Omera shook her head. “My girly thing is hair. I love styling it.”

“I do love your hair. I’m kind of jealous,” - about more than hair - “since I’ve always been absolute rubbish at doing hair. My usual braided bun is all I can do.”

The older woman laughed. “Let the girls have a turn with your hair! Winta would be salivating right now if she knew how long it actually was.”

Akaad glanced down at her hair, which floated around her in a dark halo. When standing it would reach past her buttocks, stick straight and thick as grass. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The other two looked expectantly at her. “Oh! My girly thing . . . well, my family doesn’t believe in distinguishing male and female work. Capable is capable, and we don’t really hold a lot of vanity. I guess my girly thing is cooking and knitting. I love doing both.”

“You cook?” Omera asked brightly. “What kind of things?”

“Um, well, a lot of different things.” She cocked her head. “I make some mean nut cakes. Oo! And spicy jerky. My sisters love my sweet red tuber curry too.”

“Nut cakes?” Dune asked. “What’re those?”

Akaad grinned. “You take Diwal’iian honey, venison jerky, mashed up tree nuts, and a little Corellian brandy, mix it all together until you have a chunky paste, and then dry it out. The secret to good nut cakes that last forever, is that you have to include both the brandy and the honey. Flavor and preservatives, my girls, flavor and preservatives.”

“I’d like to try one of those,” Dune said. “Sounds really good.”

They sat and talked for quite some time. By the time they all stood to get dressed, Akaad had lost all jealousy of them, and instead decided to love these two. If she truly cared for Djarin, she would have to accept that maybe he would prefer Omera to her. And she refused to lose the friendship of a wonderful woman like Omera to her own dark emotions. “Hey, I, uh, I have some nail lacquer if you want to come back to our hut, Omera. I’d be happy to lacquer your nails.”

Dune nudged her. “Holding out on me, enh?”

Akaad laughed. “Well, if I’d known . . .”

* * *

Cara contemplated her color choices. “So, blue, black, or red?”

“I’d like the blue,” Omera said.

“It would look fabulous with your coloring,” Cara agreed. “What about you Bowri?”

Bowri laughed. “I don’t care. Choose away.”

Cara eventually settled on the black, so Bowri took the red. She turned out to be the most adept at the application of the lacquer, so she ended up working on both of the other women’s. “So, you and Din Djarin,” Cara began.

“What about me and Din Djarin?” Bowri murmured as she leaned over the woman’s large hand. She had beautiful but scarred hands. Hands that had seen a lot of hard fighting. 

“Are you actually his woman?” Omera asked. “Most of the villagers are confused since you two don’t sleep in the same building, but you care for him the way a wife would.”

Bowri sat up straight, and only just managed to not ruin Cara’s nails. “What?”

“You care for him like a wife would,” Omera said again. “You make sure he’s fed, you’ve delivered soap and water to him so that he could bathe. Things like that.”

“Oh,” Bowri said, “No, we aren’t in a relationship. I just . . . understand him and his needs.”

“Well that’s no fun,” Cara pouted. “I was going to ask how a relationship like yours would work.”

“What between a man and a woman?” Bowri snarked, but Cara just sneered. 

“No, between a Mandalorian who never takes off his helmet and anyone else.”

Bowri sighed. “Well, firstly, even the strictest interpretations of the old ways allowed for the removal of armor around loved ones. Second, he’s a man just like any other beneath all that. He . . . he reminds me of my own father.”

“He is very sweet,” Cara said. “I mean, he also punches like a freight speeder, but he is very sweet.”

“He is,” Omera agreed. 

Bowri laughed. “Poor man. Back when he didn’t know I spoke Mando’a, he gave me the nickname ‘Laar’ika.’ He tried to cover his ass by saying it meant ‘Little smartass’ but it actually means ‘little singer.’”

“That’s _sweet_ ,“ Cara cried. “Is that why you call him ‘Good Lookin’?”

She nodded. “Of course, to me, he is actually good looking. Mandalorian girls love a man or woman in armor.” She wiggled her eye brows at Cara.

The big woman laughed as she took her hands back from Bowri. She turned to Omera, who was eyeing her speculatively. “So, you think he’s handsome?”

“Yes,” Bowri said as she bent to the task of painting the other woman’s nails. 

“And he’s sweet?”

“ _Yeeeeees_ ,“ she replied.

“But you’re not his woman?”

Bowri finally looked into Omera’s knowing eyes. “No.”

The older woman smiled brightly. “Do you want to be?”

Cara looked between the two of them with wide eyes. “You can share with us,” she added. 

Bowri bit her lip. She had a choice - obfuscate, and deny any of the feelings churning in her guts, or decide to own up to her newly discovered feelings. There was part of her that didn’t want to admit to a thing, but another part that was desperate to share and to understand. She thought about what it would be like at home. Her sisters would insist on knowing, and well, Cara and Omera weren’t far off from being like Mandalay and Yolenka. “He reminds me of my father,” she said.

Omera nodded, but Cara looked a little confused. “This is a good thing?”

“You weren’t raised with a father in the house were you?” Omera asked.

“No, I was raised by two moms,” Cara said. “My father was chosen out of a genetic library on Hosnian Prime.”

“It’s a good thing,” Bowri finally said. “I love my father, and it’s high praise from me to be compared to him. He’s . . . he’s a good man for many reasons. I love him to distraction.”

“And Djarin reminds you of him,” Omera replied. “I’m guessing that you may like him much more than you want to admit to us.”

“Yeah, he’s a catch,” Cara said. “How long have you been around him?”

“A week,” she admitted, and then she launched into the full story. How she’d crashed on Arvala-7, met him, trekked across the desert, and found the ship being stripped by Jawas. Meeting Kuiil and going to the Jawas. The Mudhorn. Going back to Nevarro. She left out meeting his covert, giving a vague “I meet his family,” before finishing off with how they rescued the child, also leaving out how they’d fought an entire faction of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild. “And then we came here,” she finished. 

Omera was blinking rapidly, but Cara was grinning. “Impressive.”

“No wonder you like him,” Omera added. “He’s like a knight from the old stories. Kind, courteous, and able to fight.”

“And in pretty shining armor,” Cara piped up. “Though imagining it all covered by mud is funny.”

In not telling them about his covert, she’d left out the fact that his armor had been dented and worn when she’d first met him. She allowed the misdirect to stand, knowing that Djarin trusted them with his name, but not his tribe. “Yeah, it was absolutely covered.”

“So, do you like him? Like, romantically?” Cara pushed. 

Bowri bit her lip. “Yes.”

Cara pumped her arm while Omera smiled gently. Bowri had finished her nails, and she admired them. “I like this. Having girl time. Perhaps we should do this again. I’d like to learn some of your recipes, Bowri.”

“I’d be happy to share.” She smiled at the two of them. “I . . . haven’t had a lot of friends outside of my sisters. I mean, I did hang out with an assassin for awhile, but that was mostly because we were forced to. We were by no means friends.”

The three women shared a smile. “Come, I’m sure Winta is waiting for me, and you two need your rest.”

* * *

Djarin was not entirely sure how he’d ended up in this situation. He had the Child and Winta sitting on his lap, and a book held open in front of him. The lights were dim, so dim that when Winta had tried to read the book, she couldn’t see the words very well. With her eyes big and luminous, she asked him sweetly, “Can you read it?”

What could he say - no?

So here he was reading the two children a story. Both of them were warm weights against his cuirass, and he’d kicked his feet up onto one of his trunks in front of his chair. They reclined against him, and the book held before them. With his helm’s night vision, he read them the story, pausing to let Winta point out the illustrations to the Child. It was a pleasant task, one that he enjoyed a great deal. The gentleness of the two children enjoying the sound of his voice caused a warm feeling to pool in his gut. He’d never gotten to experience this before, and he decided that he would have to find storybooks to keep on the Razor’s Crest. “ . . . the end.”

He realized that neither child was moving. When he looked down at them, both of them had their eyes closed, and their breathing was regular and deep. They were asleep. He cocked his head, wondering if he should wake them. He couldn’t stand without doing so, and he liked cuddling with them. So he sat there, letting the two little ones sleep peacefully in his lap. The warm feeling had migrated up his throat, and he felt a stinging in his eyes. He rubbed his gloved hand against Winta’s back, contemplating whether or not he felt comfortable dozing off with them in his lap.

A moment later, he heard merry voices coming towards his barn. Omera and Cara’s low voices intermingled with the higher tones of Akaad. Of Bowri. He’d taken to calling the other two by their first names, and it felt only right to refer to Akaad by hers, but something held him back. 

“Winta?” Omera called softly, but when the girl didn’t answer, she knocked and stuck her head into his door. When she finally saw them, she smiled. Turning back out she said, “Ladies, look.”

Cara craned her neck in and smiled, but Bowri was too short. She had to step in to see, and her grin was beautiful. She crept forward, and picked up the Child. The little one snuffled a bit, but otherwise let her lay him down in his crib. Omera also came forward, and picked up little Winta. She nodded a good night, before she and Cara left. Bowri continued to look over the Child, her smile brilliant in the low light. 

“Did you . . . did you have a good night?” he asked, feeling awkward for speaking. He just, he wanted to talk to her. About anything. They’d not had many opportunities to speak all afternoon, and he found that he wanted to know what her opinion of their progress was. Was she pleased? He was even though only Omera showed any ability to shoot. However, he and Cara had both spoken before they’d called it a day, and they agreed that both of their groups would be ready by week’s end. 

“Yes, though I’m sorry we took so long. I see you haven’t eaten. Let me leave you to it then,” she replied, turning to go.

Behind his mask he blinked quickly. This wasn’t how he had planned the evening to go. He hadn’t truly planned anything, but when Cara had mentioned that Bowri had not eaten supper a glimmer of an idea had formed. “You haven’t eaten.”

She stopped, and turned back to him. “No. I haven’t.”

He nodded to the window sill, showing the two plates of food he’d delivered before WInta had come looking to read her story. “I thought we could eat together. “

Bowri glanced up at him, and then back to the food. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, and pointed to the screen he’d found thanks to one of the villagers. “You can even stay inside this time.”

Her smile was bright. “I’d love to.”

He pulled the screen in front of his bed, and then gestured towards a chair for her. She took the offered seat, and then watched as he went around the screen. He extinguished the light, relying on what came through to see his food by. He gently, reverently, placed his helm on his bed. “So, what do you and the other two get up to?”

She laughed. “Girly shit.”

He wasn’t sure what the sound was that came out of his mouth, but it was somewhere between a grunt, a snort, and a gasp. “What?”

She was laughing, trying to vainly not wake the baby. “We went back to me and Cara’s hut to paint our nails. Omera has never had her nails lacquered before, so I obliged her. It was the least I could do for her. She’s welcomed us with open arms.”

“And Cara Dune?” he asked.

“She likes cosmetics.”

He snorted, but dug into the stew. “So,” she asked, “how do you think we’re doing?”

“Quite well,” he replied. “I think your estimate of a week may not be off by much.”

“Even with how badly they were doing today?”

“Even with how badly they were doing today.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, but finally she asked. “Djarin?”

“Din,” he said, without really thinking. “You’ve earned the right to call me Din.”

“Din,” she said softly, “How did you come to be with your tribe?”

He was silent for a moment. “Droids attacked my village. I . . . I remember the screaming. Sometimes when I’m near the Armorer’s forge I can even hear the sounds of their legs. Their blasters.”

“So that explains your distrust of droids. Noted,” she murmured. 

“My parents tried to run. They tried to save me as best they could.” He stopped, contemplating whether or not to go on, but then he decided to push through. “My mother had hair like yours. But more brown, not as black. But it was long.”

“They didn’t make it,” she whispered.

“No. They hid me, but they were killed. The Mandalorians found me. Raised me.”

“My mother . . .” she began, but stopped. “My biological mother was killed too.”

“How?”

“My biological father was the man responsible for running the Crimson Dawn’s organization on Diwal’ii. He had himself a young Coruscanti wife, but what he wanted most of all was a male heir. There are lots of cultures out their where only a king will do, queens need not apply. Well, first she birthed Genevra. Two years later Mandalay. Then me a year later. My sperm donor became angrier with each little girl. He spared no expense on his children though. According to Genevra and _buiri_ we had the best of everything that skugball could buy. The best tutors for when Genevra was old enough to start schooling, the most beautiful nanny he could find. The nanny was a Twi’lek slave the pleasure houses refused to buy. She had vitiligo, and no one wanted to have sex with a mottled green and blue thing like her. But she was beautiful even if she was undesirable.”

Bowri swallowed. “My father crash landed on the planet about the time that Mandalay was born. Both of his lower legs were destroyed, and medical care was almost non-existent.My biological father heard about the handicapped Mandalorian out in the wilds and offered him a chance. He’d pay for new legs if _buiri_ agreed to become the body guard for his wife and children. It was no contest. The skugball couldn’t replace his beskar properly, but he managed to outfit my _buiri_ decently enough. _Buiri_ was fifteen.”

“So young?”

“He was fleeing the fall of Mandalore to the Empire and let’s just say that his clan probably doesn’t exist anymore.” She chuckled without humor. “So he came to live in my biological parent’s home, and he fell in love with everyone who lived in the nursery. He loved little Genevra and Mandalay that climbed all over him, and when I was born, he held me when the man who had spilled his seed to make me snarled about the uselessness of another daughter. He loved our nanny with all of his heart. She was not sure about loving a sixteen year old boy, but a year passed and he further filled into a man. My biological mother got pregnant again, and when I was about eighteen months old, gave birth a fourth time.”

“It was another little girl.”

“Yes. And my biological father killed them both.”

The room was silent for a fraught moment. “Then he tried to come for me and my sisters,” she said softly. 

“The rebellion your mother and father led . . . it started that night didn’t it?” Din asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft and broken. “I never knew my biological mother. My mother was always a Twi’lek with skin that looked like the surface of a verdant world. My father was always a gruff but loving Mandalorian man.”

Din finished his food quickly, and replaced his helmet. He pulled the screen away, and stepped out. Bowri was staring into the distance. “I miss her though,” she continued, tears coming to her eyes. “She died three years ago. She was older than my father by some years, and her health had always been poor. So, I know what it’s like, to lose a loved one much too soon.”

He felt his chest squeezing. He wanted to tell her it was alright, to tell her that he could make the hurt go away, but they were useless platitudes. Instead, he reached out, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She grasped it, and curled her fingers into his. “If I can call you Din,” she murmured, “you should call me Bowri.”

“Of course, Laar’ika.”

She smiled a little. “Thanks, Good Lookin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I've seen pictures of Gina Carano when she is all dolled up, and I headcanoned that Cara Dune is also quite feminine when she feels like it. I don't know if I want to outright state that Cara Dune is lesbian, but I decided to leave it up to reader interpretation here, just with my head canon of her femininity. Bowri was also admittedly envisioned as straight, because I am straight, but I realize that I am writing her as being quite the flirt. I think it's safe to assume that she's decided that she's bisexual. So, for the readers hoping for a bi OC, here you go. She'd made the decision for herself. If Din Djarin won't take her, she and Cara Dune are going to go be bisexual icons of grace and badassdom across the galaxy. 
> 
> Oh, and I hate doing the whole girl vs. girl thing. Like to the point that when given a Thematic Apperception Test (basically a psychoanalytical test that consists of looking at a picture and writing a story about it for a couple of minutes) of two worried looking women, unlike the rest of my class mates who wrote about interpersonal drama, I wrote that they were running from zombies together. TL;DR - No girl drama unless there needs to be girl drama.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum Akaad knows what's up.

The rest of the week passed in a flurry of preparation. Everyday the sharpshooters and spear bearers got better and better, and the defenses at the edge of the village grew like a deadly forest. The pit trap was completed, and then filled back in with water. Din, Bowri, and Cara took turns prowling around the edges of the village, making sure that the raiders had not come back to scout out the settlement. It wasn’t until the sixth day that a voice carried over the wind. “ _Ke’haa!_ ”

Din whipped around from where he was teaching one of the younger village men how to properly sight on his blaster. The command came from the edge of the village that the pit trap was set up on. He spied Bowri perched up on one of the palisade crosses, far above the thick early morning mists. She was pointed into the forest, and Din felt a moment of dread. If the raiders had seen the new defenses, they’d probably be on guard. He jogged over to the cross, and called out, “What is it?”

“Movement,” she replied tersely. “In the trees.” 

“Close?”

“Yes.”

Din pulled his rifle, and Cara approached, holding a blaster. “We got company?”

“Looks like it.”

Omera, Caldon, and the other sharpshooters and spearmen approached. “Do we need to deploy?” Omera asked worriedly. 

“No,” Bowri called, her voice morphing from wary to joyous. “No you don’t!”

Out of the mist materialized three silhouettes. Two wore the familiar helms of Mandalorians, but the other was a Twi’leki woman with skin of rosy pink. “ _Buiri!_ Mandalay! Aamaraa!”

The Twi’leki and female Mandalorian ran forward, leaping up the logs of the cross that Bowri stood on. They hugged her as best they could while keeping their holds and their footing. The three women began to chatter away to one another in Mando’a. 

The third in their party continued forward, and stopped in front of Din. “I assume you’re the pilot of the _Razor’s Cres_ t?”

“What of it?” he replied neutrally. 

The male cocked his head. “My daughter is traveling with you. I wanted to see what sort of Mando’ade could have gotten my daughter to sign on with him.”

“She had little choice. She crashed on a planet I was working on.” He shrugged. “It worked for both of us.”

“Bounty hunter?”

“Yes.”

There was a sigh. “Bounty hunters, why do all of my daughters have to flirt with bounty hunters.” His voice was dry, warm, but had a strange quality to it. It was as if he was eternally speaking out the side of his mouth.

There was a chorus of feminine snorts from above him. “We can’t help it all the available Mando’ade chose that profession!” The Twi’leki shot back.

“Yeah! Bounty hunting is a honored career!” the helmeted female called.

Bowri was grinning. “You just don’t like us going hunting without you.”

The man snorted, but held out a hand to Din. “I am Callum Akaad. I was of House Moroshay, long ago.”

Din took his hand. “Din Djarin.”

They shook, and Din felt liked he’d passed some sort of test. Bowri’s father looked up. “Girls. Down.”

The three women leaped, each going a different direction, and rolled gracefully to their feet. Bowri gestured to Omera and Cara. “Come, meet my sisters! Mandalay, Aamaraa, this is Omera and Cara!”

The women exchanged greetings, and the villagers made them welcome. “Bowri is here on a job, but you are all welcome,” Omera said, turning to Callum. 

The elder Akaad nodded. “My thanks.”

“Will you need any lodgings?” Omera continued, but she frowned.

“My family and I can stay together.” He nodded to Bowri. “I understand that Djarin will probably not welcome us with him.”

“I have a screen in the barn. It can fit another,” he piped up. He wasn’t comfortable with it, but he was being shown respect, and he felt the need to return it. Callum would not be comfortable with Cara Dune, so he would open the door for her to move in the barn with him if needs be.

“How about _Buiri_ and Djarin stay together,” Bowri said, “and all of us ladies can stay in the guest house. Is this agreeable?”

All of the assembled nodded, and took a few moments to store packs. Omera rallied the village to find another cot for Callum in the barn. The two men rearranged things in silence. However, Callum couldn’t help but notice the crib. “You have an _ik’aad_?”

“Yes.”

“My daughter did not mention that you had a child.” He turned to the doorway. “Is that it?”

Din turned from where he’d been stowing his trunks, and saw the Child in the door. The little one blinked up at the two men, curiosity shining in his eyes. “Yes. He is a little male.”

Callum approached, and knelt by the Child. They stood right outside the door. The little one blinked his big brown eyes up at the Mandalorian male. “What’s your name, little one?”

Din stopped. “I have not named him.”

“Not named him? Not even in your heart?” Callum asked lightly.

Din said nothing, turning back to his task. He trusted that Akaad wouldn’t harm the Child because this was the man who raised Bowri. However, he didn’t want to admit that he didn’t want to name the little one because he wasn’t sure that he should _keep_ the little one. 

“And who is this lurking outside our door?” Callum asked.

At this, he looked up to see a dark-haired girl at the foot of the stars. “Hello, Winta. She is Omera’s daughter.”

Callum gestured for her to come up. “Well, hello then, Winta. I’m Callum.” He held out his hand, and the girl shook it with a small smile. 

“Do you take off your helmet?” she asked shyly. “Mandalay took off hers.”

“I would,” Callum said, “but I don’t want to scare you.”

Winta wrinkled her nose as she sat on the porch with them. The other village children started to gather round, and Din found himself walking forward too. “How could you scare us?”

“Are you not human under there?” one of the little boys asked.

Callum laughed, a warm sound. “I am human in species, yes, but . . . my face isn’t as pretty as Mandalay’s.”

“Can we see?” Winta pressed, her eyes flickering between Callum and Din.

“As long as you promise not to scream.” Callum’s hands when to his helm as the children gave a chorus of “promise!”

When he set his helm down at his side, even Din winced a little under his mask. Callum’s left cheek was a mass of scar tissue. Scarring around his eye gave it a downturned look, and another scar pulled his lips back and gave him a sinister half smile that showed an alarming flash of canine. The rest of it was the crinkled mass of burn scars. He gave the children an actual smile, but Din realized that the left side of his face did not move at all. “See? Not so pretty.”

A few of the children had recoiled, but Winta looked stricken. “Did it hurt?”

“I was sleeping for most of it, sweet one,” Callum replied. He sat down beside the Child. “But yes, it hurt when I woke up.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The older Mandalorian gave her a grin. From Bowri’s story, he knew Callum was only in his early forties, no more than ten years older than Din at most. He didn’t look it though, since his unscarred half was well formed and youthful. “Don’t be. If it weren’t for me getting hurt on Diwal’ii, I would never have met my wife or adopted my children.”

Winta gave him a shaky smile in return, and he looked over the children. “Come now, I believe my daughter needs to speak with me.”

Bowri stood off to the side, smiling gently. “If you and Djarin are done squaring things away, we need to talk.”

Callum stood fluidly, and Din stepped up next to him. “We can adjourn to the guest house.”

* * *

“So what brings you out here?” Bowri asked, looking at her father and siblings expectantly.

“We discovered who must have sabotaged your ship,” Mandalay began. She looked just like Bowri, except her hair was slightly darker, and her eyes were hazel instead of brown. “Looks like Crimson Dawn is trying to move back into the area.”

“The bitch,” Bowri snarled. Din cocked his head at her, and both Cara and Omera raised their brows at the ferocity of her snarl.

“Qira of Corellia,” Callum said. “Leader of Crimson Dawn. She didn’t do it herself, but we’re pretty sure that she had someone from the space port tinker with your engines. You were right, by the time Yolenka and Maro Klaste found your ship out on Arvala-7, it’d been stripped. They were able to find the Jawas though, and looked at some of the engine parts you mentioned. Obvious sabotage. Genevra contacted the Bounty Hunter’s Guild as well. Turns out that Qira has a bounty out on you. Five hundred thousand in whatever currency you want. New Republic, Calamari Flan, you name it. She just wants you alive.”

“Thankfully, the alive part is required.” Mandalay pursed her lips. “She specifically states that you’re no good to her dead.”

“Of course,” Callum continued, his right face turning into a snarl, “We were interested to note that that was _not_ the _only_ bounty out on your head. Apparently you pissed off Guild Master Carga enough that he’s willing to pay _any price_ for your capture. Again, alive.”

“What in the hells did you do?” Aamaraa asked. “I mean, I get Qira, but the Guild Master?”

Bowri looked up at Din. She sighed. “I helped Djarin take back a bounty.” She gestured her head to the Child, who had been alternately doted on by Mandalay and Aamaraa. Before her father could blast Djarin however, she stopped him with a raised hand. “It was my dishonor too. In order to get off of Arvala, I joined his crew and agreed to give the Child over. And you cannot truly hold us in contempt, _Buiri._ It was for an entire container of beskar. His armor and my gauntlet are the spoils, and we used them to take the Child back.”

“Our sin has been rectified,” Din added.

Callum narrowed his good eye at them. “Is this also why a small fleet of ships landed in Port Aran with an an entire covert of Mandalorians?”

Din sighed heavily, and Bowri grinned. “Good. I’d hoped they would get to you, safe.”

“Child,” Callum began, his voice thunderous, “your actions have consequences.”

“I am well aware of that,” Bowri snapped. “I cannot help that Crimson Dawn wants my head on a platter, that’s besides what I have done! But I needed a way off planet, and he was my way off. He is an honorable man.”

“He gave up a child!” Mandalay cried out. Omera and Cara began to look worried, more than aware of the tempers beginning to run hot.

“ _And fought an entire guild to get him back_ ,“ Bowri hissed in a tone that neither Din nor her two new friends had ever heard from her. It was the angry snarl of a mother animal defending its cub. “ _Why are you even here?_ “

Aamaraa jumped up, holding hands out to both sides. “Enough! Enough. We are here because you are our sister and our father’s daughter. Qira wants you to be a hostage, to force father to deal with her. Carga wants you because of the bounty. All you have to do is return home with us, and both problems become moot. We’ll figure out how to deal with both of them.”

“You want me to run? To hide?” Bowri replied.

“No,” Callum retorted.

“But _Buiri_ -“ Aamaraa began.

“But nothing!” He turned his gaze back to his wayward daughter. “Are you Mando’ade?” he asked, switching to Mando’a.

“No,” she answered, her eyes turning down. It wasn’t lost on Callum that Djarin had stiffened, and moved as if to come to her side from his spot in the doorway. 

“Why not?”

“Because I have no armor.”

Callum nodded. “Armor - good beskar - is earned. You’ve made a right mess of things. You had a choice on Arvala. You could have made the call and waited for us to pick you up, but you threw your lot in with him.” He nodded to Djarin. “We will help you defend this village in thanks for the hospitality they have shown us, and then we will leave. You will bring the Child to Diwal’ii in three months time from the day we leave you. Until then, you’re on your own, with no help from us. Am I understood?”

“Yes, _Buiri_.” However, Bowri didn’t look cowed. She grinned darkly. “I’ll prove my worth.”

“It is not your worth you prove, my child, it is your dedication to your path. You abandoned your duties with our company easily enough, and in so doing broke traditions and brought trouble upon yourself. Prove that you are the survivor you need to be.” He held out a hand, cupping her cheek. He switched to the pidgin mix of Mando’a and Twi’leki patois that had developed in their household. “Bring back your family to join ours.”

Her face didn’t change at all. “How did you know?”

Callum chuckled, and the sound made everyone relax, even though Cara, Omera, and Din couldn’t understand what was being said. “You hide well enough, but I raised you. I know you child, and you would not have done what you did unless you were guided by something else.” 

He looked over at the young Djarin. “And you,” he said in straight Mando’a, “you will be welcomed any time.”

“The Child is mine,” Djarn replied. 

“Then I guess it will be up to Bowri to convince you to bring him back to Diwal’ii in three months time, enh?” Callum looked back to Omera and Cara before switching back to Basic. “What is our plan?”

* * *

They finished their day, and when the mercenaries met for their evening meal, it was decided that the village was ready. “We’ll head out tomorrow evening,” Cara said. “Go to the camp, cause a ruckus, lead them back here. You’ll have to be ready Omera.”

The woman nodded. “We will be. Bowri will be with the children, and Aamaraa will be with us.”

The meal was silent for a moment. “Well,” Bowri said, picking up her plate, “time for bed.”

The assembled broke away, but Bowri needed a little time to herself. She was still raw from her father’s ire earlier in the day, so she went down to the pools. The serene water winked in the moonlight, and every so often she saw a blue krill sail through the water. She sat at the edge of the water, and pulled her knees up to her chin. “May I join you?”

She looked up and smiled. “By all means.”

Din lowered himself to the ground, and sat with his elbows on his up drawn knees. The silence stretched before Bowri sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For today.” She pursed her lips. “My father’s trial means that I will have to stay with you whether you like it or not.”

“You are a member of my crew. You would already be expected to be with me anyway.” His head turned towards her. “And is my company so unpleasant?”

“No!” she cried out. “No, I just . . . worded that in the wrong way. I . . . I like being around you.”

He nodded. “Then it will be no hardship for either of us. You stay with me and the Child for the next three months, and then we’ll be sure to return you to Diwal’ii.”

“Not just me,” she murmured. “Your covert is there as well.”

“True.” The silence stretched again. “And it should be me saying sorry.”

She laughed. “Why’s that?”

“It was my choice that had your father setting that trial.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s alright. My father’s clan always set trials before each member could first don _beskar’gam_. He would have found something for me to do to prove that I am worthy. You just provided him an easy excuse for it.”

The night breeze rustled through the trees, causing the ponds to ripple. “Din?”

“Yes?”

“Can we stay here once the job’s done?”

“Yes. We will stay.”

* * *

The next day was spent in tense anticipation.Din and Cara spent it with the spearmen, making sure that their skills were up to standards and that they wouldn’t break if they were charged. Mandalay and Callum took over the sharpshooters, and Omera found herself with a ruthless new tutor in the ways of the gun. Bowri spent her day with the children, preparing them for the night to come. She made a game of it, of course, but she taught them what to do, from staying quiet and still to running if they had to. She taught them how to hide, and how to crawl without making a sound. Their cries of happiness and joy mingled with the sounds of simulated combat.

After an early evening meal, she ushered the children into the barn. They would stay there, well defended by the spearmen and sharpshooters. “Okay little ones, I will have a few stories to help pass the time, but if you must use the refresher, now is the time.”

As two boys ran out to relieve themselves, she looked up into the implacable visor of Din’s helm. “Are you ready to go?”

He nodded, and she stepped in close. He was leaning an arm against the door jamb, curling his body down just the slightest bit. She ached to reach up and caress the cheek of his helm, to peel back his flight suit’s collar and give his neck a kiss like she’d seen her mother do in the past. “Are the children ready?”

She smiled. “Yeah. They’ll be fine. They’re all little survivors.” 

He reached up, and touched the underside of her chin. The leather of his glove was smooth and warm from the heat of his hand. “You will protect them well.”

“Of course I will,” she replied, but her voice held no anger. She was trying her best to not react to the feel of his glove on her bare skin. She felt a little heat beginning to pool between her legs, but ruthlessly tamped down on it. “Is that how your tribe wishes friends well?”

He nodded, and she reached up and returned the gesture. For a moment, she wasn’t sure she should do it, but then she decided to go for it. She curled her fingers just enough to touch his chin, but careful not to touch his helm. His skin was rough with stubble, and oh so warm. He froze, and she quickly pulled her hand away. “Be safe tonight.”

“You as well,” he murmured. They stayed in their little bubble for a moment more before Bowri turned and stepped away.

Unbeknownst to them, Callum had seen the entire thing. He’d had suspicions that Bowri’s regard was returned by the other man, but this confirmed to him the fact that Djarinwas enamored of his daughter. He grinned behind his helm. This would make his challenge much easier for his girl, and not end in her heart break. He was disappointed in her for jumping into her adventure impulsively, but at the same time, he’d been in love once. He knew the power of feeling something for another person. “Come,” he said as Djarin strode to his side, “it’s time to hunt.”

* * *

The waiting was tense. 

Bowri listened intently to the sounds from the edge of the village, but the night stayed quiet for some time. The children laid down and stayed quiet like she’d asked, but they were scared. The Child was calm, but he snuggled deeper into her lap, and she knew that he understood the gravity of their situation. Suddenly, thunderous booms shook the night. Bowri’s head whipped up. She handed the Child to Winta, and nodded to the suddenly wide awake kids. “It’s alright, but stay quiet.”

She crept to the doorway, and unsheathed her vibroblade. She held the short sword at the ready, the blade whirring softly in the night. The booms continued, rattling everything including her teeth. Then she heard a moment of silence before roars rent the night. She stood, her body now the last barrier between the children and any Klatoonian raider that tried to barrel through the door. 

And inevitably, one did.

Bowri struck quickly, making sure that the canid being stumbled back to avoid her bum rush. He fell down the stairs of the porch, but another was there, leveling a blaster at her. She leapt, and a downward slash of her blade cut him open from shoulder to hip. He fell, a death scream on his lips. The one who fell from the porch had staggered back to his feet, but before he could pull any weapon she had already drawn a line across his neck with her blade. As he fell, another raider came running. 

Before he was dispatched, a louder boom shook the entire village. The raider skidded to a stop, looked to her, and then looked back to the direction of the battle. Apparently coming to a decision, he turned tail and ran. Bowri watched him go for a moment, and then scanned her surroundings. No other raiders seemed to be near, but she held her blade ready until she heard the cheers of the others. With a small smile, she turned back to the children. As per her instructions, all but the oldest had hidden their eyes, but some of the young teens nodded, and began to tell their friends it was all clear. She’d wanted to save the younger children the nightmares of seeing her kill.

“Bowri.”

She turned back to see her father and Din striding forward. Din was soaking wet, his flight suit saturated with water. Her father had what looked like spotchka drying on his armor. “You two went swimming?” she asked flippantly.

Din looked down, as did Callum. “Two clean kills. You haven’t forgotten what I taught you.”

“Thank you,” she said as she looked to Din. She wondered what he thought of her ferocity. Did it impress him? Did it disgust him? He liked Omera a lot, and she wondered if part of that liking was an aversion to killing. However, she stopped herself and mentally shook her head. She was starting to be a bit silly about all of this. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, finally looking up at her. 

“Yes,” she said with smile. “The children are as well.”

Cara limped up, her clothing also soaking. “Did you go swimming with Cara?” Bowri asked Din.

“Not exactly,” Cara said with a smile. 

“We did it!” Omera said brightly. “We fought them off!”

Caldon ran up. “We got the leader! We got him!”

Bowri smiled at all of them. “Good!”

“We need to celebrate.” Omera looked around, and the villagers all murmured their consent. “Tomorrow night, we feast!”

A cheer rose up into the still softly burning night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where you get to meet some of Bowri's family! Callum is a fun character to write, and I may have to write a spin off about him and his wife - her name's Ti'ra by the way - some day. 
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has enjoyed this so far! I've really enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Mando'a
> 
> Ke'haa - Look! (my invention)
> 
> ik'aad - baby
> 
> beskar'gam - armor


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halcyon days.

The village was abuzz with activity the next day as the people began to prepare for their party. Cara Dune, Din Djarin, and the Akaads were told not to do a thing to help, as they were the guests of honor. Cara took it in stride, sitting back and serving herself spotchka. The Akaads insisted on hunting, and Din stayed close to the village to watch over the Child. The little one played with the village children all day, but Din did not tire of sitting near them, listening to the children laugh and squeal. He was even induced to read them a couple of stories from one of Winta’s books, Cara smiling down at them from her perch on the barn porch. 

The Akaad family returned later that afternoon, just as great pits were being dug to cook food. Between them they’d taken down four deer, one for each member of their family. They carried the animals across their shoulders, and it was the first time that Din truly saw Bowri work with her family. They were a well oiled machine as they bent to the task of cleaning their kills at the edge of the village. Skins were expertly flayed away, edible organs removed and the offal buried a proper distance from the village. The carcasses were moved to the pits, and the villagers began to cook. The smell of meat permeated the village.

As evening rolled in, the villagers ducked into their homes. Callum and Din stayed on their porch, sitting in serene companionship as they waited for the festivities to start. “I know you hold to the old traditions,” Callum began, “but my girls don’t. I’ve allowed it, mostly because none of us could have anticipated the Great Purge. So, don’t be surprised when they come dressed in their finery.”

Din grunted, acknowledging the warning. Mandalorians so valued their armor that that was usually their festival clothing as well, but he knew from Paz Viszla’s tales that the New Mandalorians had begun to change those attitudes. He’d always known that his tribe was associated with Death Watch, but he had been young when they’d fled Mandalore themselves after its fall to the Empire. They’d not been on planet when the Empire began to slaughter their people indiscriminately, but had gone undercover easily enough. It appeared that Callum’s small clan had managed it by blending in and not keeping all of the old ways. 

The villagers began to reappear, dressed in their best. It tended towards nicer versions of their everyday clothes, with the ladies having full skirts and ornate embroidery added to everyone’s ensembles. Cara appeared in a clean set of her own clothes, but by her own admission she had little in the way of finery and she was far taller and curvier than any of the village women. However, she appeared with a face full of flawlessly applied cosmetics, and her hair had been done in an attractive chignon updo. Omera appeared with her, and her clothing was much the same as the other villagers. 

The Akaad women, however, blew everyone else away. In a good sense. 

Aamaraa appeared first, her rosy skin set off perfectly by a verdant green dress. The dress fell to the ground, but had deep slits up the sides that reached well past her knees. The bodice was form fitting, and tied in the front. Her cleavage was on full display, and her arms were bare. She was bare foot, her toenails lacquered green to match her dress. Anklets circled both ankles, and a belt of heavy metal links completed her outfit. 

Mandalay came next, her dress a billowy purple concoction that cinched at her neck and fell in a drape of slinky fabric to her knees. A tie in the back secured it at the small of her back, and she wore leggings of the same shade beneath it. Her feet were also bare, and her nails all lacquered deep black. The embroidery around the hem was a simple geometric design, as were the silver bracelets and earrings that hung from her ears. Her hair was swept up into a braided crown that was threaded through with silver. She smiled at everyone assembled, and took up a spot near Callum with Aamaraa by her side.

When Bowri stepped into the circle of light cast by the bonfire, Din felt his stomach clench. Her outfit was golden, making her skin appear creamy and golden too. The halter style neck cinched above a fitted bodice the clung to her body like a second skin. The skirt of her dress had the fabric pulling in towards her thighs, so it looked like her buttocks and upper thighs were wrapped in fabric rather than in a skirt. A longer piece of fabric hung down from the bottom of the bodice, and fell to her knees. Her legs and feet were bare too, except for bracelets and anklets of delicate gold chains that wrapped around her limbs enticingly. Her hair was done in two tails that fell down to her hips, the braids wrapped in more golden chains. 

The three sisters were exquisitely dressed for a small village feast, but the villagers seemed awed rather than intimidated. “Let us come together!” Caldon shouted. “For we have defeated the raiders with our new friends! To Cara Dune!”

“To Cara Dune!” the crowd agreed, lifting glasses and mugs of spotchka high.

“To Din Djarin!”

“To Din Djarin!”

“And to the Akaad family!”

“To the Akaads!”

Another wave of cheers rumbled through the night. Din did not drink, and neither did Callum, but the younger Mandalorian took the elder’s cue by raising a hand to acknowledge the cheers. Food was passed around, fragrant meat and soft sweet vegetables, and Din took a plate back to the barn. However, Bowri rose from her perch next to her sisters and smiled at him. “May I join you?”

“Of course,” he answered, and they walked in companionable silence to the barn. Neither one saw the speculative looks the Akaads were giving one another. v pulled out his screen, and took off his helm once he was safely alone behind it. He heard Bowri pull the stool out, and he grimaced a little. If she sat on the stool she would have to eat with her plate in her lap. He knew little about the value of fabrics or dresses, but he did know that her outfit was for special occasions. “Do you need a table?” he asked quietly.

She laughed. “No, I’m good. Eat. The deer was caught to celebrate our victory. Don’t let it go to waste.”

He did as she bid, and enjoyed his meal. The meat was flavorful and well spiced. The vegetables were delicious as well. After he finished, he donned his helmet, and stepped out from behind his screen. He stopped, struck again by her beauty. She’d pulled the stool out not to sit, but to instead use it as a table. She sat on her father’s cot, her legs pulled up beneath her, and her left arm resting on the ammo box Callum used as a headboard and helmet stand. She smiled up at him as she took another bite of meat. “It was good wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She patted the cot beside her. He took the spot, and rested his elbows on his knees. “So,” she began, “what will be our course from here?”

“You asked to stay, so we stay.” He looked over at her. “But I . . . I don’t know what we should do about the Child.”

“What about him?” she pressed.

“Should we keep him with us?” Din asked. “I know your father has ordered you to bring him back to Diwal’ii, and I will not stand in the way of your mission, but until then . . .”

“Is it safe?” she murmured, finishing his sentence for him. “Honestly? I don’t know. The Bounty Hunter’s Guild hunts our every step. Crimson Dawn is looking for leverage to use against my family. And we both work high risk professions.” 

“Should we really bring the Child with us?” he pressed again.

She looked down to her food, and then back up to him. “Do you honestly think that they’ll stop looking for the little one?”

It was his turn to be silent. “No.”

“Then he should stay with us. You’ve seen my skills. I know yours. We’re both capable fighters. We can defend the little one.” She smiled, and reached out to touch his chin. “We’re friends . . . aren’t we?”

“. . . Yes.” But he wanted to be more than that to her. But how to say it? “But . . .”

“But what?” she asked, taking her warm, soft fingers from his chin. 

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

Her eyes searched his helmet, as if they could penetrate beskar to see down to his face. “Okay,” she murmured. “Are you ready to return to the party?”

He nodded, and she rose gracefully. “Come on!”

She pulled him back out into the night.

* * *

The party went on into the wee hours of morning, and a good time was had by all. Even Din found himself enjoying the festivities from the side lines. The Child came and snuggled in his lap after a couple of hours, and the two of them watched Bowri as she whirled and twirled with her sisters around the fire. She danced with strength, grace, and agility. He realized after only a few moments that the brevity of her skirts made it easy for her to gyrate and contort into the motions of her dances. Every movement of supple grace entranced the eye, and admittedly Din didn’t know how long he watched her move. 

But it came to an end, and the light of the next day dawned. The Akaads took their leave, and refused what little money the villagers had scrounged up from the hidden depths of their homes. “You gave us your hospitality. That is payment enough for the services rendered,” Callum Akaad told Omera. 

“You have our eternal thanks,” she said with a smile. 

Callum nodded, and gave her a small bow. “You and yours are ever welcome on Diwal’ii.”

She nodded in return, and the village watched the three Mandalorians disappear into the early morning mists. Bowri watched her family go, but after a moment turned back to Din. “So, how long should we stay?”

He cocked his head, but Cara snorted. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m staying as long as I can. This is a nice little place. Plus, the company is fantastic.”

She winked at Omera and then wiggled her eyebrows at Din and Bowri. “Thanks,” Bowri said.

“We would welcome you for as long as you like,” Omera said with a smile. “You’ve saved our village, our livelihoods. You’re our heroes.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cara murmured. “You guys did pay us.”

“I believe it was referred to as ‘chump change’ at the time,” Caldon added drolly from his position beside Omera. 

“I did say that didn’t I?” Bowri muttered. “Still true.”

“Barely enough to get me off this rock,” Cara added.

Din grunted, and turned to check on the Child. The little one was chasing frogs as was his wont. “We have some time. We’ll lay low for as long as we can, and then move on. Three Mandalorians in armor plus the action from the night before last will pique interest.”

Bowri nodded, and smiled. “Then let’s enjoy our little vacation while we can. Oo, Cara, Omera! My sisters brought me my larger kits, so guess who has an entire rainbow of nail lacquer and lip rouge!”

* * *

The weeks passed in serenity. Din had never truly known such a peaceful time, one without stress or worry shadowing it. He had been adopted into the tribe at the height of their involvement with Death Watch, and then had just budded into adolescence as they fled Mandalore. Even deep in the coverts, he’d had to wear his helmet because they were never safe. But here . . . it was quiet. Day in and day out he did not worry about attack, and instead found himself falling into a rhythm. He woke early, washed quietly behind his screen and then was ready to greet Bowri when she brought their breakfast. The village women no longer took turns preparing meals now that the threat was over, so each individual family went back to feeding themselves. However, they provided Bowri and Cara stocks of food to cook with. Bowri had happily taken over that duty, and he appreciated that she made dishes that reminded him of the covert. 

For breakfast she would usually make spiced porridge or a hash of meat, eggs, and tubers. Regional onions were added to everything savory, and from the packs her sisters had left her, she even managed to obtain Concordian red pepper. The covert had run out of the precious dried flakes years ago, but they’d all missed the flavor of them. Not many places in the Outer Rim grew the peppers, and those that did charged exorbant prices that outraged every Mandalorian’s sensibilities. When he asked her where she’d gotten them, she smiled. “We grow them!”

Yet another reason in a long list of them to relocate to Diwal’ii.

After he fed the Child and himself breakfast, he would take the little one out to play. He would watch over the children, allowing the older ones and the adults to work unimpeded. Repairs had to be made to several homes that had been damaged in the fight, and equipment had to be replaced. Cara helped on that end, while Bowri went into the woods, helping to forage for food. They were fortunate that the raiders had not destroyed all of their food stocks, but they’d still lost quite a bit of quality krill, so that meant a loss in profits. In order to make it to the next harvest date, they would need to supplement a little. It was also why Bowri and Cara insisted on returning most of the money back to the villagers. As with the Akaads, the village’s hospitality would be enough. 

Bowri would serve lunch, often something portable like hand pies or flat cakes studded with dried fruit. All of it made with Mandalorian flare, so Cara was often requesting milk to help with the heat of it. Then, in the afternoons Din helped Cara train some of the villagers who’d requested to learn more self-defense. Bowri would take over looking after the Child, and Din got used to returning in the mid-afternoons to find them both sleeping in his bed.

The first time had been a shock, and he’d been unsure what to think. He’d come in from the training session, ready to take a quick sponge bath to get rid of the worst of his sweat, only to find the bed behind the screen filled with his two favorite beings in the world. Bowri was curled around the Child, both sleeping soundly. As Din watched, the Child grunted, and turned so that his little head was in the hollow of her neck. His heart swelling a little at the sight, he’d quickly taken off his helmet and clothes, and replaced them with fresh ones after a rushed wash. He knew that at any moment the two might wake and see him, but . . . he would not mind. The Child was his, and though Bowri viewed him as a friend, he was already contemplating how he might change that. Could he woo her?

That thought percolated for much of the days following that first encounter, but soon Din got used to it. The Child preferred to nap when one of them was with him. When he asked Bowri, she answered with a smile. “I don’t know, but I would guess it’s an attachment thing. We might be the first constant caretakers he’s had in a long time. Who knows how long he’s been chased around the galaxy by rival gangs for whatever reason. It might comfort him to remember that he’s not alone.”

He accepted that answer because it comforted _him_ to know that he was not alone.

After the naps and the training sessions, the women would join Din for dinner. He’d sup in the barn, away from the window, and the ladies would eat beneath it. Talk would usually be focused on feminine subjects to the point that Din learned several things he’d rather not about human female anatomy, but he still rather liked feeling like he was included. He also found himself on the end of some good natured teasing, usually about his personality.

“ . . . And then he asked me if I wanted some soup!” Cara said with a laugh.

“Politeness is a virtue,” Omera murmured with a chuckle.

“What was the first thing he said to you?” Cara asked Bowri. 

She laughed. “Mine was not so cute. He asked me who I was and why I had decided to crash land near the compound he was at.”

“Aw,” Cara said with a disappointed tone. Then she knocked on the wall behind her. “What about you? What was your first impression of Bowri?”

Din thought a moment. “Competent. Tough. Unnervingly concerned with feeding me.”

“If I didn’t insist, you would eat nothing but those nasty protein ration bars! Those are for emergencies Din! Not for every day consumption!”

Omera and Cara just started laughing. Din stayed quiet, just enjoying the comraderie. As evening wore into night, Omera would retreat back to her home, and Cara and Bowri to their guest house. He would retire with the Child, and would tell the little one stories. Some of them were old legends about great Mand’alore of old, or tales of heroes from the wars with the Jedi. A couple times he even tapped into stories his biological parents told him so long ago. Then, he would lay the little one down in his crib, and retire to his own bed. 

And this pattern repeated for days, and then weeks. Three passed in tranquil habit, until one day Din, Omera, and Cara were sitting out on the front porch of the barn. Well, Cara was sitting, Din was leaning up against the wall, hands clasped at his belt. Omera was standing between them, having just offered to grab Din some spotchka for later. “So, when are you going to ask Bowri out for a drink?”

Omera hid her smile behind a hand, while Din slowly cocked his head at Cara. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you are obviously head over heels for that woman,” Cara replied. “You’ve been standing out here for twenty minutes now because she’s not back from her usual foraging expedition.”

He said nothing to that. “Cara, don’t press,” Omera began, but an incessant beeping sound drew three sets of eyes to the subject of their conversation. She was stalking through the village, her hand clenched around something.

Din strode to meet her, and she held out the device in her hand.

It was a tracking beacon.

“We have to go,” she murmured.

* * *

Their leave taking was quick as a necessity. They loaded up the village’s speeder, and quickly said their good byes. “Omera, Cara, it was wonderful to meet you,” Bowri murmured, her eyes filling with tears.

“And you,” Omera replied softly.

“Hey, I’m going to stay here awhile, make sure the next set of bounty hunters doesn’t try anything, ok? And maybe in a couple months time I’ll find Diwal’ii and give you a visit, enh?” Cara said with a smile.

“I’d like that,” Bowri said as she picked up the Child. Winta had been tearfully giving the little one one last hug. 

Din helped Bowri up into the speeder, and as the slow moving transport began to move away, they bid one final farewell to their home away from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, admittedly, some filler, but pay attention, some of this does become important later . . . mwhahahahaha . . .


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things on Tatooine get . . . interesting.

As they set down into their assigned bay in Mos Eisley, Bowri breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, at least we got to the ground alright, hunh little one?”

Din glanced back at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, but its been a long time since I was in a dogfight,” she replied, standing gingerly. “Good flying, Good Lookin’.”

He nodded, and went down the hatch first. It had been about four days since they’d left Sorgan. Both of them had already agreed to set down on a planet to stretch their legs after so long on the cramped ship, but neither one had been particularly planning on the dogfight with another bounty hunter. She followed him down, holding the Child close to her chest. The little one cooed his curiosity. “Ready to see another desert planet, hum?”

With a gurgle as her answer, she walked down the gangplank, just in time for Din to shoot at some droids. “Dammit Mando!” she snarled, reverting to his generic name in these unfamiliar circumstances. 

“Hey!” another feminine voice rang out. The three denizens of the _Razor’s Crest_ looked to a short, curly haired human woman striding out to meet them. “You can’t shoot at my droids!”

“I don’t want droids near my ship,” he snarled.

“Let me do the talking!” Bowri growled back as she shouldered past him. “Sorry about him.”

The woman shrugged, eyeing Din with distaste. “So, what can I do ya for?”

“Our ship needs some work,” Bowri replied. “I’m Bowri.”

The woman took the proffered hand. “Peli Moto.”

“Well, can you help us out, Peli?” Bowri continued. 

Peli examined everything, tutting to herself and muttering. “Well, this is going to take me a long time without the droids!” She eyed the damage. “And I’m going to charge extra.”

Din strode forward, and laid the last of his stash of money in her hand. She counted through it. “Well, this will cover the beginnings.”

Bowri sighed. “Looks like we need to make some money, Good Lookin’.”

He nodded, and then thought of something. “I know a couple places we can try. Want to get a drink?”

She cocked a brow at him. “I have to get the little one down for a nap.”

Moto walked back over, and took a look at the bundle in Bowri’s arms. The Child’s eyes were heavy, and his head kept nodding back and forth like he was about to fall asleep. “I can, uh, keep the little guy for ya. You two need money to pay me, after all.”

Bowri smiled a little, and asked, “Do you have children?”

“Had two,” Moto replied softly. “Always had a soft spot for babies though.”

She looked back to Din, and then down to the little one. Bowri examined the woman. She was older, on the short but willowy side. Her hair was a curly halo around her head, and her face lined from years of smiling and laughter. Her dark eyes were also kind. She also didn’t seem the sort to lie, since Bowri knew that there were plenty of mechanics who would insist on using the droids no matter what. Peli Moto acquiesced rather easily, and that told Bowri that she was a hard worker too. 

She offered the little one over. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Moto shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Find a job so you can pay me! Me and the little guy here will be just fine.”

Bowri nodded, and followed Din out into the dusty street. “So, where’re we going?”

“Cantina. Backwaters like this, you can usually find a job or two there.” 

Bowri smiled. “You know, one of my first assignments was on Tatooine.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, the Rebel Alliance needed to find this man - they called him Obi-wan Kenobi. Fun name right? Me and three other spies were sent out here. They were deployed to a bunch of planets. One of the higher ups was pretty sure that he was here, but Mon Mothma wanted to make sure. So we got sent out. I didn’t find him, but one of the others traveled around a bit and found mention of a Kenobi out on the other side of the Dune Sea.” She smiled. “Those were the days. This place used to be a thriving den of inequity, but that kinda faded out once Jabba the Hutt got killed.”

Din grunted, and led the way into the cantina. It was nearly empty, with only a few creatures enjoying their preferred drinks. “Let’s relax a minute first,” Din murmured to Bowri, and she nodded.

“What can I get you?” the droid bartender asked.

“You got any Hosnian whiskey?”

“We have whiskey, but not Hosnian.”

She shrugged. “Works for me.”

“Go find us a suitable table,” Din said. “I’ll bring your drink.” There, that was something. Courteousness was always a good way to get positive female attention. It worked whenever Paz Vizsla was trying to get the Armorer’s attention at least. It was well known within the covert that the big Heavy Infantry Mandalorian was quite enamored of the smith. What was unknown was whether or not the regard was returned, though there was always gossip. 

She smiled, and turned to go find a table. The droid was only another moment with the drink, but when Din turned towards the direction Bowri had gone, he found her speaking with another man. The man was young, probably in his mid-twenties at most. His hair was brown, and his skin had an olive cast. She was seated at a table, while he leaned over it, his posture loose and relaxed. Din approached, trying not to give in to the impulse to punch the kid in the side of the head.

“So, Bowri, you live around here?” the kid asked in a suave tone of voice.

She giggled. “No. I’m just visiting.”

“Visiting? Me too. I’m a bounty hunter.” He took a long sniff. “Yeah, I’m on a really big job.”

Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Oh, really?” she asked in a saccharine voice.

Din felt his hand tighten on the cup, but the tough material thankfully didn’t break. “Yeah. Maybe while we’re both here, we can, I dunno?” He pursed his lips. “Get a drink? Maybe dinner?”

She looked down and then up. “I don’t think so.”

“Aw, come on!” he wheedled. “Why not?”

“Because I’m here with someone,” she said gently. “Got my whiskey?”

By this point, Din had literally been hovering over the young man for at least a full thirty seconds. The kid looked back, startled, and stepped away from the table. “Sorry! Didn’t see you there!”

Bowri smiled up at him brightly. “There you are, Good Lookin’. And there’s my whiskey!” She took the mug and sipped. She grimaced. “Yay, rotgut.”

“What do you expect on an outpost like this?” the kid asked awkwardly.

Din slid into the seat beside Bowri, and for some asinine reason, slung an arm around the back of her chair. She didn’t seem to mind. Instead of the sharp words he was expecting from her, she only leaned back and reached up to touch his chin gently. “Good Lookin’,” she said jovially, “meet Toro Calican. He’s a bounty hunter too.”

Calican swallowed. “Yeah,” he said lamely. 

Bowri sipped her drink. “So who’s your bounty?”

“Fennec Shand.”

Bowri whistled, and Din shook his head. “How many hunts have you been on?” he asked, concern suddenly welling. He probably shouldn’t care about the kid, but it was hard to shut down his protective instincts. This greenhorn was still wet behind the ears enough that he probably needed a mentor, and Shand was a target even _he_ would think twice about. Being the best in parsec didn’t mean shit when going up against an assassin of her caliber.

Calican clenched his jaw. “This is my first.” Then a glint came into his eye. “Look, I need this to get into the Guild. Would you two be interested in a job?”

Bowri and Din shared a look, even though she couldn’t see his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You can keep the money, but I need this for my reputation,” Calican explained. 

“Fennec Shand is one of the most dangerous assassins in the galaxy. She’s killed for every major crime syndicate in the Outer Rim, Crimson Dawn, Black Sun, the Hutts.” Bowri shook her head. “What were you thinking taking this bounty?”

Calican’s eyes slitted, but he did not answer her question. “I just need this, ok? Like I said, you can keep the money.”

It was Bowri’s turn to purse her lips, and she looked over at Din. He thought about the proposal a minute, and then nodded. “Meet me at bay 3-5 in an hour with speeder bikes.”

Calican nodded, his eyes lighting up. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

“I’m going with you.”

Din looked up at her, and Bowri crossed her arms. “Do you feel comfortable taking down Fennec Shand with a greenhorn?”

He sighed. “No. But what about the Child?”

“I can keep him!” Peli Moto piped up. They had been having their small argument on the loading ramp, and she had been sitting with the Child balanced on her knee. The little one cooed in agreement. “If it means I get paid, of course I’ll take care of the little cutie!”

Bowri gave him an arch look. “I”m coming.”

She watched him stalk back to his weapons locker, and start loading up with gear. After a moment, she followed him into the ship, and then glanced back. Moto was busy playing a card game with her droids while the Child looked on curiously. She smiled at the picture of them, and then decided to address what she’d seen at the cantina. 

Calican was a handsome man, she’d admit that, but what had given her pause was Din’s reactions to him. She’d seen the moment he’d caught sight of the young man bending over the table, the stiffening of his body beneath his layers of flight suit and armor. The carefully controlled menace as he stalked towards her and the young wannabe hunter. And then, when he’d sat down, the arm he’d thrown around her shoulders. Quite frankly, it had been thrilling to watch him go just a hair feral and territorial, but it was going to be a problem for this job. It was time to have a hard talk. 

“You know, you don’t have to be jealous, right?” she asked him as she leaned up against the door of the weapon’s locker.

He paused, frozen in the act of grabbing a blaster. “What do you mean?”

She smiled a little, and felt a blush beginning to rise. “In the cantina, when Calican was flirting with me. You . . . you don’t have to be jealous. I . . . I wasn’t interested in him.” She reached out, deciding that she needed to make herself perfectly clear. Miscommunications caused way too many fuck ups as it was. So she grasped his hand, and boldly, placed it on her cheek. The leather was warm, soft. “I’m interested in you.”

Din had frozen again, and for a terrifying moment, Bowri was sure that she had missread him, that she was wrong completely about what she had seen in that cantina, and on Sorgan, and -

His other hand came up, and rested on her other cheek. He bent, and touched the forehead of his helm to hers. She closed her eyes, a smile wreathing his face. “I was . . . trying to figure out how to approach you with my interest,” he admitted after a joyous moment.

“Well!” she said. “Now we both know.”

He ended that lovely Keldabe kiss, and leaned back. His arms went around her waist, and he held her close to him for a moment. She leaned in, not minding the armor and layers that kept her from truly being able to feel him. “May I do something that my mother used to do for my father?” she asked gently.

“Go ahead.”

Slowly, giving him time to refuse, she reached up and pulled down the cloth covering his neck just enough to expose a sliver of pale skin. Up to her tiptoes she went, and laid her lips there in a light kiss. He shivered violently, and she leaned back with a laugh. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to tickle.”

His voice was husky through his vocoder. “It didn’t tickle.”

She smiled, but Moto’s voice from outside put an end to any more shenanigans. “Hey, uh, some kid’s here for you two!”

Bowri grinned. “Let me get my gear. Go out and talk to Calican.”

* * *

Calican, the little bastard, had only brought two speeder bikes. One was a two-seater, but Din smelled a set up. The only reason he wasn’t a raging ball of jealousy at the moment was because Bowri had made it very clear who she wanted to court her. The little upstart probably thought he was going to get to woo the pretty woman and be the hero when he brought in Shand. Taking a deep breath, Din stowed his ire, packing it down to focus. Bowri had kissed him. Bowri wanted him to touch her. 

“Bowri and I will take the two seater,” he said. “You have the coordinates?”

Calican looked mutinous, but as soon as Bowri stepped out from the doorway to see the two men, he smooth his expression to one of friendliness. “Hey! Mando here was just telling me that you’d ride with him. Is that okay with you?”

Bowri smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Calican looked taken aback. “Well, I was just making sure since you weren’t out here to agree to it.”

“We’re lovers,” she stated firmly. “Why wouldn’t I mind?”

It was a little bold to call them lovers, Din thought. Since they’d never had sex they were technically only in the courtship stage of things. But, he thought with a mental shrug and a hidden frown, it worked for him. It certainly took Calican down a peg or two as the young man visibly deflated. “Oh,” the young man said.

She smiled at him and then hopped into the second seat on the two-seater. Din didn’t want to admit that he was gleefully enjoying the kid’s long face as he threw a leg over the front seat. AS soon as he was settled, Moto came over holding the Child. “Be good,” he told the little one.

“Be sweet,” Bowri said, kissing the little one on the forehead. 

The little one cooed, and Calican gave him a strange look. “That’s your kid?”

“Yes,” Din answered curtly. “Ready?”

Calican nodded, and started up the speeder. Din followed suit, and just before he took off, he felt Bowri’s arms wrap around his waist. She laid her head against his back, and he felt a burst of pride. She wanted him, not the handsome young man on the other speeder. It really should not make him so happy, but he really didn’t care. The first woman to catch his eye in well over fifteen years returned his admiration and interest. She’d kissed him. 

They sped over sand, and the entire time he enjoyed the feel of Bowri’s arms around his waist and her body pressed against his back. They did have to stop when he caught sight of dewbacks in the distance.

“Why’re we stopping?” Calican asked.

He pointed, and Calican pulled a pair of binocs. “Sand people. What could they want?”

Din had dismounted, and already seen a pair of Tuskens coming towards them. Bowri followed his gaze, and tensed. “Why don’t you ask them?” Din asked when they strode up.

Calican turned and startled. His hand went to his blaster, but Din made a noise of disagreement. “Wait.”

“But - they -“

“This is their land,” Din said gently. Then he started signing. “ _Good day. We need to get through your land. We’re hunting a bounty._ “

One of them signed back, but the other approached Bowri. “ _What are you hunting?_ “

“ _An assassin. A woman._ “

The one who approached Bowri signed, “ _Hello, Beautiful One._ “

Din made a sound. “ _She is my woman and not for sale._ “

“Hi,” Bowri said to the Tusken who had spoken to her. “Good Lookin’, what’s he saying?”

“He greeted you and called you beautiful.”

“Oh!” She looked to him. “How do I sign my thanks?”

Din made the sign, and then she looked to the Tusken and repeated it. The first one replied, “ _We do not need your woman. If you hunt the one on the other side of the Dune Sea, we will allow you and your woman passage for your respect of us._ “

The other Tusken pulled out a clear crystal of quartz. They were common on the edges of the Dune Sea, but the Sand People still valued them for their beauty and practical value. He offered it to her. “I thought we were trading for passage,” Bowri murmured, but she smiled and signed “ _Thank you_.“ 

“ _My thanks as well,_ “ v replied. “ _What are you asking for this one?_ “ He gestured to Calican.

“ _The binocs will do nicely,_ “ the Tusken replied.

v nodded. “Hey, let me see those.”

Calican handed the binocs over, and Din tossed them to the Tusken. “Hey! Those are new!”

“They were,” v answered, and Bowri waved at the friendly Tusken. 

With a sigh, Calican got on the speeder, and they continued on their journey. Another hour passed, and they eventually stopped again. Din had been secretly enjoying it because Bowri had begun running her hands down his sides. It had been years since anyone had touched him skin to skin, and he was starting to yearn for it. However, he pulled his mind from that to examine what was set out before them. A dewback was plodding along, dragging a body behind it. “Is that Shand?” Calican asked.

All three of them had dismounted, but Bowri shook her head. “No. I don’t think that’s her.” She pointed up to the ridges in the distance. “That’s where she’s supposed to be right?”

“Yeah,” Calican replied. 

Bowri bit her lip. “I don’t like this.”

“Should we check?” Calican pushed.

“I’ll go,” Din replied. He crested the dune, and approached the dewback slowly. He turned the body over, and the dead eyes of another bounty hunter stared up at him. He turned to let them know just in time to be hit in the shoulder. He flew backwards, and then scrambled back to his feet as another shot went wide. 

“Good Lookin’!”

He got over the dune, and slide down beside Bowri. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes.” He looked over at her, she leaned her head against his. 

“We’re not going to be able to get to that ridge during the day. We’ll rest. Wait for night fall.”

“You have a plan right?”

“Yes.” He looked to Calican. “You keep watch for now. We’ll rest and then rotate.”

* * *

Toro Calican was going to go places. He came from a well off family, but he didn’t want to become a middle management hack like his father. He wanted fame. He wanted fortune. He wanted beautiful women that hung on to his every word. Bounty hunting had been his dream since he first read about them as a child. And now he was here, now he needed the help of the Mandalorian. The attitude he got from the guy grated something fierce, and he hated that he had to rely on the other man, but Toro Calican wasn’t an idiot. He knew that Shand was probably way out of his league. 

However, as he glanced back at the two leaning up against the speeder, he wasn't too angry that he'd picked the two up. Toro had seen the woman walk past his table in the cantina and figured she’d be an easy flirt, but as soon as the Mando had shown up, he’d been so embarrassed. The woman, Bowri, was with _him._ It had been hard to miss in the cantina, admittedly. The way the Mando had slung his arm around her shoulders and how she’d touched his chin. He really had only been able to get two speeder bikes, but when the Mando had come out and decided to announce who was riding what, he’d gotten up in arms. It had stung a little when Bowri had declared that she and the Mando were lovers. 

Toro was jealous. The Mando had everything he wanted. He was a bounty hunter, feared and respected. He had a beautiful woman who smiled at him beguilingly. Sure, the kid they had was strange, but hey, adoption was a thing. 

“Hey.”

He looked back to see Bowri standing behind him. “My turn. Go get some shut eye.”

He smiled and nodded, and examined her head to toe. She wore brown pants that were tucked into simple knee high boots, and a green shirt that was a beacon against the golden sand. It also glowed against her tanned skin. “You are really beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Now go get some shut eye.”

“I just wanted to ask,” he began, “why the Mando?”

She looked to him, her dark eyes razor sharp. She was a looker, her skin smooth and unblemished, her lips full and pouty, her patrician nose was straight and proud. “That’s an awfully forward question to ask. But to answer your question, it’s because he’s a good man.”

Toro nodded, accepting her answer and going to lean up against his speeder bike. He closed his eyes, and managed to fall into a slumber.

* * *

The plan was a simple one, but Bowri wasn’t sure she liked it. “So you and Calican go in, and you want me to ride the dewback around the flank? Why?”

Din switched to Mando’a. “Because you don’t have beskar. I’m going to try to keep the kid from being killed, but I’m definitely not letting anything happen to you. Shand will be too busy tracking the speeder bikes to aim for you.”

She nodded, and watched them mount. “Good luck,” she said, switching back to basic. 

They were off in a flash. She waited two minutes, the flashes lighting the sky above her. The dewback had loitered in the general area all day, so it was simple to scramble down the dune and then onto its back. She kept herself low, but guided the beast around the flank. She waited until the pulses of the sniper rifle stopped before sitting up and kicking the beast into a gallop. It would still take her a while to get to the rocks, but she had faith in Din. He’d take down Shand, but it would remain to be seen whether or not Calican came out of it alive. As she rode, she saw the final flare that signaled a successful retrieval. 

It took another hour for her to make it to the ridge line, but as she approached, she saw two Sand People frantically waving their arms at her. She pulled the dewback to a stop, and the two rushed forward, and gestured to her to get down. That’s when the dewback got shot out from under her. Bowri jumped, rolling away from the large body, but then rushing back to allow the big corpse to shield her. “The fuck!” she snarled. 

Din and Toro had been subdued. 

Her heart nearly stopped beating. “Din,” she murmured just as the two Sand People ducked behind the dewback with her. She looked up at them, and was pretty sure that the one staring at her so intently was the one who had given her the quartz. “Please help me.”

The Tusken nodded, and placed a finger over his mask. That’s when she heard the footsteps approaching. “Hey, Bowri? Is that you?”

It was Calican.

She peeked up over the corpse, and he was walking towards her. “What’re you-”

He leveled a blaster at her. At that moment, Fennec Shand pushed Din out from behind a rock formation at the base of the ridge. “Hello again, Akaad.” 

Bowri gave the other woman a tight smile. “Fennec. Long time no see.”

“I’d say I’m sorry,” Toro said, “but I really need this.”

“What’s your plan?” Bowri asked, carefully stepping around the Tuskens at her feet. She shook her head, and thankfully the two raiders understood not to move. 

“Simple,” Toro said, “I’m taking the Mando in. He’s my ticket into the guild.”

“So, what, Shand’s been telling stories?” Bowri said snidely. “You trust the word of an assassin over us?”

“She described the baby.”

Oh. Well.

“He’s a cutie isn’t he?” Bowri said. She looked over to Din. He stood tense, ready to fight even though he was in cuffs. “Now!”

The two Tusken’s jumped up, and began firing at the two enemies. Calican and Shand dove for cover, and Din sprinted towards Bowri. He slid to a stop beside her, and she searched his ammo pockets for his spare key. The cuffs came off easily, and she gave him her spare blaster. They turned, but Shand was already running into the distance and the two Tuskens had made quick work of Calican. 

“Well,” Bowri said inanely, “this was certainly a shit show.”

“Agreed.” Din looked up at the raiders. “ _Thank you_ ,” he signed.

“ _You were lucky that our patrols and your flares led us out here. We witnessed your battle. Impressive. It is unfortunate that the boy and the woman conspired to capture you._ “

Din nodded. “ _Thank you._ “

“ _Know this_ ,” the first Tusken said passing a piece of quartz to Din, “ _you and your woman are allowed through our lands whenever you like. Simply show any others the quartz at your neck._ “

Din bowed this time, and Bowri mirrored him. She had absolutely no idea what was going on, but felt it best to follow his lead. “ _The honor is ours_.“

The two Sand People bowed in return, and then turned to where they’d stashed their dewbacks. Apparently they’d been patrolling the edge of their lands and had come in beneath Shand’s notice. She’d been so focused on the trio hunting her that she’d not noticed the slow moving dewbacks shambling along the rock face. The two had been in the middle of setting up camp when the first flash had gone off. They’d crept along the lower rock face, and witnessed the scuffle between the Mandalorian and the two conspirators. 

Din and Bowri turned to look back at Calican. He was breathing shallowly. “So, what do we do with him?”

“Shand’s in the wind,” Din murmured. “This was a wasted mission.”

Bowri walked up to Calican, and picked through his belt. She found a money pouch, and opened it with a whistle. “No wonder he didn’t need the money. Look at this. He’s got to have one hundred and forty thousand credits here, easy.”

“We were promised at least a hundred thousand.” Din said.

Bowri picked through the money. “So, what, take ninety?”

“We were hired to catch Shand. We did. Technically.”

Bowri nodded, took the money, and knelt down. She pulled one of the vibro-daggers she’d grabbed from Din’s stash. She slapped Calican hard across his cheek. “Hey, hey asshole!”

Calican’s eyes blinked open, and found the blade against his neck. His eyes were wide and he began to sweat. “Toro, Toro, Toro. You little shit,” Bowri said in the saccharine voice she usually reserved for the Child. “That was a dumb ass move trying to betray us.”

“I’m sorry!” he said, “I . . . I -“

“Shut. Up.” She stared him down. “Now, you’re going to go back to which ever Guild Boss hack was asinine enough to hand you a high profile puck, and you’re going to tell him that Shand was too dangerous. Then, you’re going to find yourself a nice, tame little bail jumper and build your reputation and skill up just like everyone else in the profession has. Got it?”

Calican, not being a stupid man, nodded. “And we’ll be taking our cut anyway too. For our trouble.”

“Sure,” he grated. 

“And Toro?” she continued.

He looked her dead in the eye. She began to tighten her hand on his neck. Her voice dropped an octave, and held such poisonous menace that even Din recoiled a little. “If you try to come after us for any reason, I will skin you alive and feed you to a sarlacc. Savvy?”

“Yeah, sure, savvy!” he choked out. 

She shoved him back, and threw his now much lighter purse back on his chest. She stepped away, her stride loose hipped and angry. Din found her ferocity unexpectedly sexy. “Ready to go Good Lookin’?”

He nodded, and they returned to the speeder bikes. She hopped up into the back seat. “We’re leaving one for him?” Din asked.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “He’s an idiot and an asshole, but he’s also a child. Wouldn’t be right to kill him unless he pushed us to.”

Din started the bike, and they returned to Mos Eisley. The rest of the rest stop was uneventful. Peli Moto ended up with a tally of twenty-five hundred credits worth of work, but she ended up with ten thousand credits in her palm as the Mandalorian, his lady, and his child left behind the deserts of Tatooine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about going ahead and killing Calican, but decided to take the scenario a slightly different direction. Mostly because I am hella salty about The Rise of Skywalker. Warning, rant below.
> 
> So, just as a heads up, I was originally going to keep this as having nothing to do with the Skywalker saga - which is what I hope for the series itself. However, after the absolute shit storm that was TRoS (like, no spoilers, but the movie is fundamentally flawed. If you enjoy(ed) it - great! I'm sure for most people it will be an adequately entertaining little summer blockbuster in the middle of winter. However, . . . God. So much is not good, from both a creative and fannish perspective. Again, if you enjoyed it, this is not an indictment of you, but I hated it) I decided to take everything in just a completely self-indulgent direction. Not in this story mostly - I plan for this to completely take place 9 ABY, and I probably won't include any plot details from Season 2 unless I can work it in with how I want to conclude my story. But there will be sequels that will tie back into the Skywalker saga, because if I have to be subjected to JJ Cliche Abrams's Reddit Dump Fanfiction of a movie, then I no longer give a shit about my fan fictions being anything but completely self-indulgent. Gone are the days where LKS will sit and say "nah, that's a bit too much" because fuck it! I live in the worst time line, might as well have fun. 
> 
> Anyway, now that I have knocked the salt of Crait off, here is my hope that you enjoyed this chapter!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowri dares to be badass.

“So,” Bowri began, “where do you want to go now? We probably don’t need to work for awhile, but it might be nice to go visit some place.”

“Where would you want to go visit?” Din asked. They’d left Mos Eisley the day before, and had more or less been traveling aimlessly. 

“Naboo is lovely this time of year,” she replied.

“Naboo is a Mid Rim world,” he replied. “They’ll require chain code authorization for us to land.”

Bowri smiled. “Luckily for you, I have connections.”

“Really?”

“I have a friend on the inside as it were,” Bowri said. “My father’s courier service has benefited much from Lady Sabe’s patronage. She’s quite important to the Naboo, and if I let her know we’re coming, she’ll vouch for us.”

Din was about to say something else when a transmission crackled over the comm array. A familiar face flashed up. “Mando! If you get this, I’ve got a job for you. We could really use your help.” 

“Who is that?” Bowri asked, putting aside her knitting. 

“Ranzar Malk. An old friend.” He input the coordinates he needed. “I’m surprised he wants me to meet him. We didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“Who is he?”

“A merc.” 

“Oh, that’s comforting,” Bowri muttered. The Child cooed from his little seat. “And we’re just going to go meet this guy who may or may not be a bit shady? For a job we don’t even need right now?”

There was an uneasy feeling in Din’s gut, but he also felt like he owed Ran. “We’ll go check it out. If it sounds like a good job, I’ll take it. You will stay in hiding with the Child.”

She blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Ran does not know you, and will probably insist on keeping a close eye on you. “

“I’m kind of hard to miss,” Bowri murmured. 

“Yes, but if he’s untrustworthy, I need you free to move without him.” Dyn turned to her. He handed her a stealth comm link. “I trust you to be able to handle yourself. The important thing is to make sure that the Child is protected. You can listen in with this.”

She nodded, her lips a hard line. Without a word, she got up and took the Child down below. The journey to the rendezvous was over in mere moments. As Din pulled in the _Crest_ for a landing, he noted that Ran looked old. He shut down the ship, and went into the cargo bay. Bowri was nowhere to be found, and the door to the sleeping nook was closed. He decided not to push it, well aware that he was treading dangerously close to offending her pride. He didn’t want to do it, but he also wasn’t so sure that Ran wouldn’t try something with Bowri. One of the reasons that Din had left was the revelation that Ran had his fingers in the slave trade. 

“Mando!” Ran cried. “Good to see you!”

“Good to see you too,” he replied, and for the most part he was honest. He’d cut his bounty hunting teeth running with Ran, so he did have some fond memories. “You said you had a job.”

“Yeah, I’m putting a crew together.” Ran gestured him forward. “Come on, I’ll explain it.”

And explain Ran did. With every word out of his mouth and every face that Din saw, his stomach sank more and more. He should have ignored the damn message. They needed his ship, and his gun, but he didn’t know if he wanted them anywhere near his ship. Especially Xi’an. She flirted and hissed as was her old habit, and of course brought up the old times. They’d never actually slept together, but she had managed to convince an eighteen year old Dyn Jarren to allow some heavy petting to go on. 

As they filed into the _Razor’s Crest_. Din’s nerves grew. He hoped that the plan would go off without a hitch, because otherwise this was going to be bad. He hated that a droid was piloting his ship, and after checking to make sure the droid wasn’t doing anything other than that, he went back into he cargo area. Burg was poking around in his weapons locker, so he closed it. “Hey!”

“Stay out of my things.”

Burg bowed up, but Mayfeld cut him off. “Hey, you ever take off that thing?”

Din did not answer, but Mayfeld just turned towards Xi’an. “Does he?”

She grinned. “A lady never kisses and tells.”

“Come on!” Burg said, “Take it off!”

In the ensuing scuffle, Burg hit the door lock for the sleeping alcove. To the surprise of everyone - honestly including Din because he didn’t realize how far Bowri was going to go for a charade - a feminine shriek echoed through the hold. “What the hells?” Burg growled.

Mayfeld held up a hand to stay Burg’s reaching hand, and Din tried to elbow through to shield the two on the bed. Bowri had put on her golden party dress, but instead of the chain like bracelets and anklet’s she’d worn to the party on Sorgan, she wore thick bangles that looked almost like manacles. She’d taken down her usual braided hair style, and returned it to the two braids that made her seem younger, more childlike. She’d applied cosmetics to make her brown eyes look huge, and to rouge her lips and cheeks. Her nails were lacquered gold to match her dress, and in her arms she clutched the Child. “You dog!” Xi’an cried. “You’re keeping a damned pleasure slave?!”

Bowri looked utterly terrified, and for a moment Din nearly forgot the mission, forgot that she was a trained Mandalorian. He finally shoved Mayfeld - who had stood and shielded the Child and Bowri from Burg’s curious hands - out of his way. Before he could say anything she spoke. Her voice trembled in fear, but the words of Mando’a were completely at odds with it. “Play along.”

“It’s okay,” he said, “they aren’t going to hurt you.”

“Who is this?” Mayfeld snapped. 

“She’s mine, that’s all you need to know,” Din snapped. “I found her on another run. Decided to keep her. She doesn’t speak Basic, so she has no idea what’s going on.”

Bowri reached out, and clutched the edge of his cuirass. She pulled herself up and into his arms, looking around at the others with wide, terror filled eyes. “This is a horrible idea,” she said in Mando’a. “We should be on Naboo right now.”

“What’s she babbling about?” Burg snarled.

“I don’t know. I don’t speak her language.”

Xi’an snorted. “Don’t need words if her only duties on board are keeping you happy in bed.” The Twi’lek looked her up and down. “Kind of short and fat don’t you think?”

Bowri buried her head into Din’s neck. “I’m going to fucking cut her.”

At this point, nerves were starting to turn to humor. If it weren’t for their precarious situation, Din would pay to watch Bowri and Xi’an fight. “You _courted_ that? I begin to question your taste in women, Good Lookin’.”

He wanted to deny vehemently that it was more that Xi’an wanted a notch on her bed post rather than courting, but it would shatter the illusion if he responded to her as if he understood her. They needed to keep up the illusion of her being a from a backwater planet so remote that the natives didn’t even know Basic. “It’s ok. She has no idea what’s going on, and as long as you leave her alone, she won’t get in our way. She and her pet can stay in the sleeping bunk.”

Burg snorted, and smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile, but one full of smug knowing. Xi’an hissed, and he lost the expression, but it did not make either Din or Bowri very happy. However, they were all saved from continuing the conversation by Zero. “We are coming out of hyper speed.”

Without warning, the ship rolled, slinging them all in different directions. Bowri found herself curled around the Child but wrapped in Din’s arms. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“You owe me a nice dinner at my favorite restaurant,” she muttered into his neck. Carefully, while the others were still screeching their displeasure at their droid pilot, she pulled his cowl down and kissed his neck. “Stay alive.”

He returned her gesture with a forehead bump, and then stood, easily hauling her and the Child up. Din set them carefully into the bunk, and then closed the door.

* * *

Bowri stared at the door, and tried not to screech her displeasure with the whole situation. She’d listened in to the explanation of the plan, and it stank to the highest heavens. Though she had retired from the spying business three years ago with the final fall of the Empire, she still had contacts across the galaxy. Not to mention the fact that she - along with many other former spies - still had backdoors into New Republic systems. She opened up one of the packs her sisters had sent along with her, and pulled out a remote data pad terminal. Unlike other data pads that just held films or games or books, this one had capability to connect to other systems. It was really no trouble to hook into the New Republic vessel’s servers.

“Shit,” she said softly in Mando’a, just in case the Devaronian and the Twi’lek were still on board. Mayfeld the human was probably the only one of the motley assortment of mercs that she would even consider being trustworthy. He was a professional as evidenced by his reaction to her reveal. Where the Twi’lek had hissed displeasure at no longer being the only pretty female and the Devaronian had openly lusted for her reveled skin, Mayfeld had stood to shield her. She wasn’t part of his job so she was off limits. The other two were trouble pure and simple. 

Unfortunately, the com link that Din had given her was one-way. She couldn’t call him, and she definitely wasn’t going to go running out there right now. Something was shady here, starting with the fact that they told him that the ship was run by droids - but left out that there was one New Republic Corrections Officer on board. “Shit,” she repeated.

“I’ve got to do something, little one,” she murmured as the Child looked up at her with worried eyes. She wasn’t entirely sure why they wouldn’t tell Din about the officer, but she guessed it had something to do with getting him on board for the mission. They had been adamant about getting ahold of the _Razor’s Crest_ though she couldn’t blame them. They were right when they said that the _Crest_ was a ghost. This type of ship predated the New Republic and the Empire, and it did not have a more modern type of beacon system for ship tracking. When she’d proposed going to Naboo, she’d known that she would have to spoof a beacon for ground control. Outer Rim territories wouldn’t care, but Naboo was civilized space and most certainly would. 

Quickly, she gathered what she would need. She had to get to the Corrections Officer and make him hide. She took a moment to input her bio-sig information into the New Republic ship’s systems, and then carefully write in a program for it to disregard her. She couldn’t let Zero know that she was leaving the _Crest_. She wouldn’t be able to track the mercs and Din, but she had a plan. They would be doing their level best to hide from droids, so all she had to do was hitch a ride with a patrol. Get to the control room. Make the Officer hide. Get back to the ship.

“Okay, I need you to stay here,” she told the Child. “Keep an eye out for me, okay?”

The little one cooed, and she smiled as she loaded up with a few weapons and then opened the door. Down into the New Republic ship she went, and quickly she found her way to the control center. Since she didn’t have to actively avoid droids, it was easy to take the most direct route there. Just as she arrived, an alarm sounded. The Corrections Officer didn’t spare her a glance as he watched the feed from a droid’s on board camera. Din was taking down an entire squad of droids, using his agility and dexterity to the fullest advantage. The droid recording the footage had been taken down first, so it gave an impressive under-side view of the fight. After the last droid fell, Din stood over the carnage, his chest heaving. 

Bowri felt her loins clench. 

“Gods he’s sexy,” she murmured, and that was what finally startled the officer into responding. 

He whipped around, but Bowri was already holding up her get-out-of-jail-free card - a Rebel Alliance challenge coin. “Who - who are you?” he asked shakily, his eyes going from the coin to her face.

“You don’t need to know my name,” she replied. “You just need to know that those mercenaries are not going to let you out of this alive. We need to hide.”

“But -“

“It’s two of us against four of them,” she said sternly, “and they have a Mandalorian and a Devaronian. You wanna try those odds?”

The young man shook his head. “We can hide up there!”

He helped her up into the vents above the control room, and they were squared away just in time to watch the team enter. Bowri watched Din bring up the rear, and remembered the sight of him standing over the droids. She wished to the gods of her fathers that he had not been raised as a fundamentalist - her _buiri_ revealed that the man was probably raised by a faction of Death Watch, and as such would be considered strict by any Mandalorian’s standards - and outside of a family structure. He would refuse to take off his helmet until he was married /at least/ and that meant that he would probably not appreciate the sudden urge she had to see his face while she did unspeakable things to his body.

Of course, she could still do unspeakable things to his body, he just might not allow her take his helmet off while she did them.

The team left after they found what they needed, and the two in the ceiling climbed down. “You okay over there Davon?”

Davon, the Corrections Officer, nodded. “Yeah. You know I can’t let them take a prisoner.”

She gave him an arch look. “There’s not a whole lot you can do about it.” 

An alert went off, and he checked it. “They’ve opened up a cell. But . . . it’s still registering as occupied.”

Bowri checked her data pad. Four pings were moving away from the cell, and one was still there. “Do you have data feeds from that hall?”

“Yeah.” He brought them up, and they watched the betrayal take place. Bowri felt her blood boiling. So that was the real reason they insisted on Din coming along - and the reason the Devaronian had smiled at her. 

Narrowing her eyes, she went over to the main controls and hit an emergency override. “Hey!” Davon cried out, but she held up a hand.

“You are going to do everything I tell you,” she murmured in a deadly voice. “Understood?”

He looked like he was going to argue. After all, why would he, an officer of the New Republic, take orders from some random stranger dressed up in a slave outfit? However, before he could say a word, she already had a blade beneath his jugular. “I asked if you understood. That Mandalorian in the cell is mine, and I don’t care if you’re Republic, Rebel, or Imperial - I will cut your throat and leave you bleeding on the ground before I let him get crucified for this clusterfuck, savvy?”

Davon was young, and had not been a member of the Rebel Alliance, but he had a few friends who were former Rebels. He recognized what Toro Calican, and even Din Djarin did not - the term “savvy.” Rebel spies had often functioned as assassins, and they had created their own slang. “Savvy” was a warning from a spy to anyone else that they were on the edge of getting dangerous. He saw it in the woman’s eyes. She had saved him, but she would also kill him gladly. “Okay. I understand. What do you need me to do?”

Bowri smiled.

It was not a nice smile.

* * *

Din was surprised to find that his plan for getting out of the cell turned out to be moot. Mere moments after he had been left to rot, sirens went off throughout the ship, and the door to his cell opened. A young man dressed in the ridiculous egg-shaped helmet of the New Republic appeared, and beckoned for him to follow. “She told me to tell you to come to the control center.”

“She?”

The young man shrugged. “She didn’t tell me her name, just showed me her credentials as a Rebel.”

When they arrived at the control center, Din saw the feeds from around the ship. The mercs were trapped, and frantically calling to Zero. However, the droid wasn’t answering. “Where is she?”

The young officer shrugged again. “She took one of my comms, but she didn’t tell me -“

“Alright kid,” said a voice from the control panel. “Time for the show. Open up the doors of the adjacent hallway.”

“Bowri?” Din murmured.

The two men watched the monitors as a figure came into view. The hallway lights were red, and in that light her golden dress merged with her skin tone until it was hard to tell that she was wearing anything at all. Her two dark braids were over her shoulders, and she carried something large in one hand. She stopped when she got to the hallway facing the mercs.

“What’s she doing here?!” Burg bellowed. Xi’an hissed, and Mayfeld looked uncomfortable. 

Qin snorted. “Who’s this?”

“The Mando’s pleasure slave,” Xi’an hissed.

“Ah, no wonder you don’ like ‘er!” Qin chortled.

“Hey, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Mayfeld asked, taking a cautious step forward.

“She must have set off the ship’s defenses!” Burg yelled. 

“Yeah, but we’re pretty deep in the . . . ship . . .” Mayfeld trailed off just as Bowri slid the thing she was holding down the hallway. It was hard to make out between the dim lighting and the substandard quality of the video cameras, but it took only Din a moment realize what it was.

“Zero!” Mayfeld shrieked.

It was the droid’s head.

“You bitch!” Xi’an screamed. “Stinking Mando whore!”

Bowri cocked her head. “Filed tooth dog.”

Xi’an reared back, and Qin lost his jovial expression. “Wot did you say about my sister?!”

“I said, she’s a filed tooth dog,” Bowri said slowly in Basic. “An unwomanly excuse of a Rylothian gutter worm. No wonder she has no lover - she looks like the ass end of a blurg.” And then, she put her hands, back side out beneath her braids. In one motion she fluffed her braids out, while sticking out her chest. 

Xi’an roared and began throwing daggers. Beside him, the officer whistled low. “Your woman’s crazy.”

Din watched as Bowri dodged the throws easily, neither moving forward or back. “How so?”

“My girlfriend’s a Twi. The insults about her appearance are one thing, but the lekku flip? Yeah. That’s the rudest gesture a Twi’lek can make.”

However, for all her crazy, Bowri was winning the fight. After Xi’an had exhausted her thrown blades, she charged. None of the others joined in, but Din knew that was because Xi’an would destroy them for getting in the way of her fight. Bowri didn’t let the charge phase her. Instead, she let Xi’an get in a couple good swipes before she darted in under the Twi’lek’s guard. Xi’an tried to twist away, but Bowri grabbed her by her neck and slammed her head into the bulkhead. She did it twice more until the Twi’lek stopped moving. Dark blood covered Xi’an’s skull, and more of it was smeared on the bulkhead itself. 

“Xi’an!” Qin screeched. Burg roared, and this time started running. Bowri pulled something from her cleavage - it looked like a drinking straw through the screen - and lifted it to her lips. She blew, and something flew out of it and hit Burg right in his wide forehead. It didn’t stop him though, but Bowri was already moving. She hoisted Xi’an’s body up over her shoulders in a rescue carry, and turned to run. 

Din was already striding out of the room when her voice carried through the control panel speaker. “I’ve got the Devaronian. You take Mayfeld and the male Twi!”

* * *

Mayfeld and Qin did not pursue Bowri, so Din found himself following them as they desparately tried to make it back to the _Razor’s Crest_. Of course, they were being prevented from doing so by young Daven in the control center. He was monitoring all of them, making sure that Burg, Mayfeld, and Qin didn’t get the drop on anyone. 

“Hey,” Davon said through the comm. “Qin and Mayfeld have been separated. Mayfeld is two halls over from you, and I’ve cut the lights.”

“Thanks,” Din answered as he strode towards his prey. Strobe lights had started up, but he tuned them out by setting his helm to infrared. Mayfeld was a human shaped blob of red in the dark and he crept up behind him. At the last moment, Mayfeld turned, his battlefield instincts finally letting him know that an enemy was creeping up behind him. Din adjusted, and got behind the human man.

There was no fight.

After that he quickly consulted with Davon to figure out where Qin was. Alarmingly, he’d managed to get almost to the ship. Din let his gait lengthen into a trot, but got to Qin just in time. “Mando,” Qin said, “you and your woman are something. But come on, you’re a man of your word! You’re not going to go back on it and leave me here, are you?”

“Your sister and the rest of the team betrayed me,” Din said quietly.

“But I had nothing to do with that!” Qin got a considering glint in his eye. “And I’ll make sure that Ran gives you the full bounty. All their shares.”

Din cocked his head, considering. He didn’t trust Ran Malk as far as he could throw him, not anymore, so the offer was not that appealing. He was about to raise his blaster and insist that Qin follow him back to his cell, when a feminine voice said, “How much was the bounty again?”

Din turned his head, and there was Bowri. She looked completely unharmed, not one hair out of place. She smiled at him. “Put him in cuffs while we finish up our business here. Then we’ll take him to Ran.”

Wisely, he decided not to argue in front of Qin. Instead, he did as he was bid, and followed her back to where he’d left Mayfeld’s unconscious body. He lifted the human man up, and followed her back to the cell that Qin had originally been in. Davon was there, and he smiled as Din laid the human man out beside Xi’an. The Twi’lek woman was still out, and Burg the Devaronian was snoring in a heap on the floor. “How did you get him down?” Din asked Bowri.

She pulled the tube from her bodice. “Sleeping toad venom. Stuff will knock most species on their asses. I use it for enemies that are above my pay grade. The hardest part was getting him to get in here before he passed out.”

Din nodded and made an appreciative noise. Then he took another look at the young New Republic officer. An idea began to form. “Davon,” he said slowly. “You wouldn’t happen to have a panic beacon would you?”

* * *

When Din and Bowri returned to the ship, she went up first to check on the Child. The little one had fallen asleep sometime during the battle, and she strapped him into his tiny cradle. Qin was let out of the cuffs and allowed to join Din on the bridge, and Bowri joined them a moment later. Qin eyed her. “You know,” he said seductively, “you are a beautiful woman.” He ran the back of his knuckles down one of her bare arms.

Before Bowri could do anything, Din turned and leveled a blaster at Qin’s head. “She’s also my woman,” he said calmly, “and I’ve had enough bantha shit for one day. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Qin held up his hands and leaned away from her. Din turned back to the controls, and Bowri laughed low in her throat. She liked Din when he was sweet and clueless, but oh, the terrifyingly dangerous Din was nice too. The rest of the ride was completed in silence. As they docked, Qin nodded. “Alright. Thanks Mando.”

Bowri and Din followed him down. Qin charged down the ramp, embracing Ran Malk. “Hey, where’s the rest of the team?” Ran asked. Then he frowned. “And who is she?”

Qin shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just give em the bounty. I agreed to it.”

Ran cut the Twi’lek male a look, but tossed three bags of credits up to Din. He passed one off to Bowri, and then they turned back into the ship. Quickly, they left. “How long do we have?”

“I activated the beacon right after we left Davon, so,” she glanced at a chronometer. “Maybe thirty seconds?”

“Good. Ran’s probably spooling up a fighter right about now.” Just then, three X-wings dropped out of hyperspace. 

“Unidetified vessel, we are representatives of the New Republic fleet. State your identification -“

Bowri reached around Din, and hit the comm button. “New Republic fighters, this is Rebel Alliance operative 9921/B, codename Ti’ra. Authorization code Alderaan. Yavin. Skywalker. We are not the threat, I repeat, we are not the threat. Unfriendlies are on the station behind us.”

The three X-wings darted below the _Crest_. “We read you loud and clear, Ti’ra. Be advised, we are not authorized to take old codes from Rebel Alliance operatives anymore, but we’ll let this slide this time.”

“Let me guess, Mothma and Organa are still butting heads in the Senate?”

“Something like that,” the man on the other end chuckled. “Now, get out of here. They’re spinning up a fighter as we speak.”

“Thanks,” she said as she hit the comm button again. She looked down at Din and smiled. “Can we go to Naboo now?”

“Yes,” he said, “we can go to Naboo now.”

She sank into his lap, curling her arms around his neck. “You scared me today.”

For a moment, Din thought she was talking about his ferocity in the fight against the droids. “I - I’m sorry.”

She chuckled. “Don’t be. I know it’s the path you’ve chosen, but . . . you could have been left to rot in that cell. The New Republic wouldn’t have cared that you were not the prisoner originally in it, they would have just given you a sentence and . . . they would take your helmet. Your armor. I could not let you become _dar’manda_. Not like that.”

Din blinked behind his mask. “What?”

She reared back and placed a hand on his mask. “What do you mean what? You could have been unmasked today! They would have taken everything from you. I was so scared for you.”

“You weren’t scared of me?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Din Djarin. Did you not just see me smash a Twi’lek’s head in? The bitch will live, but she’s going to have a dent in her skull that bacta will only do so much for.”

“I thought . . . because of the fight with the droids . . .”

She snorted. “Oh no, that was hot.” She sat up and readjusted herself so that she sat on his lap, her thighs on either side of his. In this position his head was level with her bosom, and it forced him to lean back and look up at her. She ran her hands down the side of his helmet. “Seeing your skill? It made me weak in the knees. Knowing you have the strength to throw droids around? Makes me want you to put those strong hands on me.”

Din wanted that too. He wanted to touch all the skin on display. “Watching you gave me pleasure too,” he murmured. But he couldn’t say anything more. He had no idea what else to say. He was painfully hard, and he wanted her. 

“Take off your gloves,” she murmured.

He did as she bid, and revealed his hands. He didn’t mind letting her see them, since the only real prohibition was to take off the helmet. Other pieces of armor could be removed as needed. And right now, he needed. He needed to feel her skin for himself, not dulled by the leather of his gloves. He ran his hands up and down her arms, and she shivered violently. “Yes,” she hissed.

He continued up until his hands were on her shoulders, one moving up to cup her cheek, and the other down to feel the soft skin of her breast. He didn’t dip into her clothes, but she began to rock her hips against him. “Din,” she murmured, grabbing at his hands. She forced the hand on her breast to keep going, to push aside fabric and grasp her. 

The other hand she brought to her mouth, where she kissed his palm. Then, she sucked his first two fingers into her mouth. “Bowri,” he growled pulling them out.

“Yes?” she whined.

“Sleeping berth. Now.”

“Make me,” she said sucking his fingers back in her mouth. He stood, and she gasped and wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her down the hatch, and both of them glanced over at the Child. He was still sleeping peacefully. Din punched open the sleeping berth, and sat down on his cot. She still had her legs around his waist, but now she had plenty of room to spread out fully. She rolled her hips, and moaned. “Dammit.”

He stroked his hands down her back and she shuddered hard. “Din,” she moaned. She placed her hands on his pauldrons. “Ah!”

He stroked her spine again. He wanted to feel her, all of her. However, his vow held him back. He had not allowed anyone to see his face since he was seventeen years old. The one lover he’d ever had had been another young Mandalorian, a girl in the covert. They’d fooled around as was allowed, but on their seventeenth birthdays, it had ended. She had died three years later. But he wanted to feel all of Bowri, wanted to sink into her. Wanted to kiss every inch of her skin. He was suddenly frozen with indecision, and his hands stopped moving. Did he give in to his lust, or did he hold to his vow?

“Din?” Bowri murmured. She touched his face. “Do we need to stop?”

“I . . . I can’t take off my helm.”

She smiled at him, and gave him a soft headbutt. “I know. It’s okay.” Then her smile turned wicked. “There’s no need for you take it off anyway.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice going guttural. 

“Do you want me to show you?” she asked.

“Yes,” he murmured.

She slid off of his lap, and shimmied out of the underwear she wore beneath her skirt. It was a mere wisp of fabric, but Din barely paid attention to that. Her hands undid his belt, and pulled at his clothes until his cock was exposed. It stood straight and tall, hard and ready. She smiled, and climbed back onto his lap. She guided his cock into her, and Din let out a strangled groan as she let out a happy sigh. She was warm and wet, and felt amazing wrapped around him. That was the last coherent thought he had as they rocked against each other, growing more frenzied with every moment. Need coiled around them, pushed them, until finally Bowri’s back bowed hard and she cried out. She stopped, her head coming down to lay against his, but Din was not done. He grabbed her hips and forced her to ride him, and she let him use her until he let out his own hoarse shout. 

Bowri chuckled as he laid back on his elbows. She pulled up her skirt, and he could see the dark hair at the juncture of her thighs. She disengaged carefully, but he felt the dampness around his trousers that meant he’d have to change them. She turned and walked back towards the refresher, and he enjoyed watching her muscular ass walking away from him. In the dim lighting of the hold, he could see cum running down her leg, and it filled him with a savage sort of satisfaction. When she was done with the refresher, he took his turn. He showered quickly, and put his helmet back on, but did not put on any of his other armor. Instead, he dressed in only the long sleeved, tight fitting under shirt and leggings that he wore beneath his flight suit. She was laying down in the nest of blankets that she’d formed on the sleeping cot, and he joined her there after he went back topside to set the ship to autopilot. 

“Bowri?”

“Yes, Din?”

“Why me?”

She sat up on her elbow, looking down on him with heavy lidded eyes. “You refused. Every time something looked like it was too difficult, too dangerous, you refused to back down. You were going to die fighting that mud horn rather than giving up and I . . . I admire that. I admired you. And then we went to Nevarro, and you were willing to fight the entire Guild for the Child and I . . . I admired that too.”

He stroked her face and cupped her cheek. “I became infatuated with you when you started teaching the Child the _Resol’nare_.”

A blush spread across her face. “Oh,” she said softly. “Oh.”

Later, after they’d both fell off into exhausted sleep, a little body squirmed between them, and the two woke long enough to rearrange themselves. The Mandalorian, the Courier, and the Child dropped back off to sleep, curled together in a tangle of arms and legs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, i toyed with him going ahead and revealing his face, but thought, nah. Then I thought about taking advantage of the blindfold loophole that's been abused a lot here lately, and thought, nah. Nope, sex with the helmet on and everything, fully clothed because it's dirty and passionate, and that's the theme of today's chapter!
> 
> Mando'a
> 
> Dar'manda - "soulless" basically, to not be a part of the culture. Considered very bad.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bowri meets her heroes.

“Look,” Bowri told the little one, “there’s Naboo!”

The baby cooed in delight, and reached out a little hand, as if he could hold the verdant world in his little palm. Din glanced back at them, and a smile stretched his face beneath his impassive helm. He was glad that they were excited. He was less enthused. This would mark the first time he’d entered a Mid Rim world legally. Usually if he ended up outside of the Outer Rim, it was in the seedier ports that didn’t mind a few unregistered entrants. But Bowri insisted, so he was willing to trust her.

“This is the _Razor’s Crest_ seeking permission to land.”

“ _Razor’s Crest_ , this is Theed ground control. We have your application forms ready. Please authenticate your chain code.”

Bowri stood, and gestured for him to let her take the comm. “Theed Ground Control, this is Courier Bowri Akaad.”

“Acknowledged.”

The conversation terminated, and Din looked up at the woman leaning over his shoulder. She smiled down at him, and gave him a gentle head butt. The Child cooed in delight, apparently quite happy to be squished between his _buir_.

“ _Razor’s Crest_ this is Theed ground control. You are to touch down in Bay 4-7-8-7.”

“Copy that,” Din replied.

Bowri returned to her seat, and then strapped the little one into his jury-rigged ammo box turned child seat. “So, first things first, we need to do some shopping.”

Din cocked an eyebrow to himself. “And why would we need to do that?”

“The Naboo are . . . Finicky. Persnickety. They value beauty and form, and, well, I won’t say detest, but strongly dislike things that run counter to that. Our clothes are functional, but not elegant. And while I admire your _beskar’gam_ it will most definitely offend some poor Naboo housewife. So, if we don’t want to call attention to ourselves over much, we need some clothes.”

“Wouldn’t your party dress work?”

She snorted. “Good gods, no. The Naboo would be scandalized by the amount of skin it shows.”

Din blinked. “How much will it cost?”

“Fortunately,” she laughed, “the Naboo are notoriously generous. A dress for me and a surcoat for you shouldn’t run us more than a hundred credits. The little one’s clothes may cost a bit more since baby clothes are tailored individually.”

“Surcoat?” He’d never heard of such a garment. They were completing their entry, and almost to the surface now.

She laughed as the _Crest_ set down gently. “You’ll see.”

After powering down the ship, he strode out behind her. She carried the Child on her hip, and the little one giggled as they stepped into the morning light. The first thing he noted was the smell that was coming though his helmet. It was sweet, fresh. More floral than even Sorgan’s piney forest scent. As he examined the architecture of the bay, he realized that every line was clean, elegant, with purpose. While the structure was still functional and had few frills, everything seemed to cater to a smooth, fluid aesthetic. As someone raised on good Mandalorian cubism, quite frankly he found it boring to look at.

“Greetings!” a feminine voice said, drawing their attention to a door to their left. In sailed a woman who appeared to be somewhere in her mid fifties. Her robe was a rich green, and her hair was swept up into an elegant updo. “So good to see you again!”

“Lady Sabé! So good to see you as well!” Bowri called out. 

The two women shared a short embrace, before the older woman looked from the Child to Din. “And who are these fine gentlemen?”

Bowri opened her mouth, but then turned to Din. He knew that she was waiting on him to decide whether or not to use his name. He examined Lady Sabé, and decided to trust Bowri’s judgment. She would not wish to come see this woman if she were a danger to their little family. “I am Din Djarin,” he finally said, “and this is . . . Rhys.”

The Child, Rhys, gave Sabé a smile and a giggle. 

Bowri’s grin was absolutely huge. “I’ve been traveling with these two for a little over a month now, and we were looking for a place to lay low for a little while.”

“And you thought to bring these two strapping men to come see me, eh?” Lady Sabé laughed as she chucked Rhys’s cheek. “Good call. Now come, you all need new outfits if you are to accompany me about Theed.”

“See?” Bowri whispered to Din. “Persnickety.”

* * *

A surcoat, it turned out, was the least of what Lady Sabé required her tailor to make for Din. Lady Sabé would not hear of him wearing his flight suit around. “You will not be getting into battles anywhere near our beautiful capital, so you will not need your armor.”

“My lady,” Bowri said quietly, “his armor is nonnegotiable.”

Lady Sabé sized him up, and Din felt her regard pass over him. The older woman’s eyes were laser sharp. “I had forgotten about Mandalorians and their armor. It’s been so long since I had been around any. Fine, but the underclothes are going to be different.”

And different they were. The tailor had been curiously unfazed by his insistence on not taking off anything while the man was in the room with him, but instead did his level best to work around Din’s armor. Soon, the Mandalorian was outfitted in black trousers that tucked into new black knee boots, and a black high-necked tunic with long, fitted sleeves beneath his cuirass. All of it was embroidered with silver thread, and his boots buckled with silver latches. On top of his cuirass and pauldrons he wore a fitted, sleeveless, duster-length coat of black that was also embroidered with silver. New black leather gloves completed his outfit. 

When he strode out of the room he’d been led to, he found Lady Sabé smiling at him beatifically. “You look quite dashing,” she said. “And look! Here’s your little one!”

Din turned to find little Rhys toddling out in a jaunty purple robe embroidered with green leaves. The little one cooed his delight as he came to Din’s leg, and gestured to be picked up. Aquiesing to his little one’s demand, he picked up the child to find that the robe was silky soft. “My,” he heard the older woman say.

He looked up, and his stomach clenched. Bowri was dressed in a halter style dress with sleeves that attached at the side of the bodice rather than along the neckline. It was deep green that faded into blue at the hems. Golden clasps cinched it around her neck, and secured the sleeves to her arms. Her hair had been pulled back into a softer style that matched her youth. A golden hoop held it in place, and the ends trailed down her bare back in a silky waterfall. “I thought you said the Naboo don’t like to show skin.”

She laughed. “Not as much skin as my party dress does!”

“And that is a particularly daring style,” Lady Sabé said with a sniff. “It’s been popular on Naboo for years, but only with young women who are courting.”

Bowri blushed a little, as if she’d been caught with her hand in a sweet jar. Din chuckled, and held out his arm to her. She took it with a sheepish grin. “You look quite handsome.”

“Thank you.” He glanced over at the tailor and seamstress. “How much do we owe?”

Lady Sabé waved a hand. “Put it on my account.”

“But -“ Bowri began.

“I insist! I never did pay you for that first run you did for me years ago. Let this be your payment.” She smiled gently at the young couple. 

“Okay,” Bowri murmured. “Payment accepted.”

“Now,” Lady Sabé continued, “let us adjourn for lunch. I have an appointment I must keep.”

* * *

Bowri couldn’t stop looking over at Din. In beat up armor and a dingy old flight suit he’d been attractive. In shining beskar and a slightly nicer flight suit, he’d been undeniably handsome. In a tailored black ensemble chased richly with silver cubic embroidery, he was sexy. A Mandalorian prince, like the tales that she and her sisters used to tell each other at night - though they were all aware that there was no such thing, but enough stories got melded together by their mother and father’s cultures that this was common. Those stories had featured heroes coming to sweep them off their feet, and Din was dressed just like one. 

She sighed happily.

He cocked his head down at her, and smiled up at him. 

“Ah! Here we are!” Lady Sabé led them into a restaurant, one that was guarded by two New Republic troopers. 

“Uh, my lady -“

“Sabé! So good to see you!”

The husky feminine voice floated across the room, and Bowri realized that the restaurant was an open floor plan, and almost completely empty. One table had been set up, and at it sat four other people. The woman who had spoken was a shorter lady, curvy and brunette with her hair in intricate braids crowning her head. Beside her sat a young man with dirty blonde hair not terribly much lighter than hers, and wide, kind eyes. On her other side sat a child in a booster seat, and beside him another brunette man that could only be the child’s father. The child had the woman’s eyes, but he had a face not far off from his father. However, the man was eyeing Din with wariness written across his face. “You didn’t tell me you were going to bring guests,” the woman continued.

“My apologies, Leia, but a good friend dropped in, so I wanted to meet her and well, time got away from us.”

Leia. 

_Wait a minute_.

Lady Sabé gestured to her and Din. “This is Bowri Akaad, and Din and Rhys Djarin.”

Rhys cooed at the table.

The young man with the mop of light hair did a neck-cracking double take. “Luke, are you okay?” the other man asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just might have, Han,” the other man said with a growing smile. 

Luke. 

Han.

Bowri was a woman who had faced down tough opponents for literal years. She’d fought in a war, been a spy for the plucky Rebel Alliance and been close to death more than once. She was a hardened, seasoned warrior. So she did what every seasoned warrior did upon meeting three people who were probably her biggest heroes.

She hid behind Din. 

He stopped, and she could almost _feel_ his confused blink. Rhys chattered at her, but nope, she was not coming out from behind Din. She didn’t want to meet her heroes. She didn’t want to know that General Han Solo had nasty belches or that Princess Leia Organa chewed with her mouth open. She didn’t want to know that Luke Skywalker was a sexist pig. She didn’t want to know about their warts, she just wanted to let them stay affectionate daydreams.

However, her response only seemed to illicit gentle laughter. “I take it she’s a fan?” Han asked.

“Apparently,” Lady Sabé replied.

Din turned, and leaned over her. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you know who they are?” she whispered tersely.

“No.”

That brought her up short. “Those three are the most famous leaders the Rebel Alliance has! That’s . . . that woman is _Princess Leia._ “

Din cocked his head. “So?”

“So? _So?_ “

“They’re just people. Waiting on us to have lunch.”

That got her to finally peek around him. Lady Sabé was giving her an arch look from her spot beside a pulled out chair. Servers were quickly pulling another small table to accommodate the added three guests. A fiery blush crossed her face. “I’ve made a complete ass of myself,” she said in quiet Mando’a.

Din cocked his head at her. “I . . . I imagine that if I’d ever had the chance to meet Bo’Katan Kyrze, I may have reacted like you,” he replied in kind. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Bowri allowed Din to lead her over to a seat, and sat her to the right of Lady Sabé. He pulled the child seat that had been brought for them to be in the middle, and then he sat on the other side of it. Bowri nervously placed her hands in her lap, while Din settled Rhys into his seat. Luke Skywalker - _the Luke Skywalker_ \- couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Rhys. Han Solo couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Din. Leia was giving the entire scene a beatific smile. “So, Bowri Akaad? Why is that name familiar?”

“Bowri here was a spy for you,” Sabé said succinctly. “What was your old codename? Ti’ra?”

“It was my mother’s name,” Bowri said softly. “She was the one who encouraged my sisters and I to join the Rebellion.”

“Really?” Leia pressed with a small smile. 

Bowri nodded, warming to the conversation. “My mother was a believer in the cause. My father was in no place to come out to help at the time, but my elder sisters and I were able bodied, and well trained. It was the least we could do especially after . . .” She glanced up to Din. “The Night of a Thousand Tears.”

Leia nodded, but Han curled his lip. Luke gave him a look. “Come on Han. I know you don’t like Mandalorians much, but even you have to admit that what the Empire did was despicable.”

Han sighed, and handed his child a piece of bread that had just been placed on the table. “Look, I’m sorry, but after dealing with Boba Fett-“

“Fett is a disgrace,” Din broke in, causing everyone at the table to recoil. “He is _not_ a Mandalorian. His armor is cheap durasteel, and he was never trained in our creed!” 

Bowri huffed out a laugh. “Tell ‘em how you really feel, Good Lookin’.”

Din turned to her. “Fett has slandered the name of Mandalore for years. He wore our emblem but had the barest idea of what we stood for. He was never a Mandalorian.”

She cocked a brow at him. “Neither -“

“Do not dare!” he hissed in Mando’a. “You are Mandalorian. Stop saying you are not.”

She blinked at him. “Oh.”

The others at the table had followed the conversation right up until it had switched languages, but now seemed slightly uncomfortable. Bowri pasted on a smile. “Sorry. Din is just a bit . . . . passionate about this.”

A server cleared his throat, and asked, “My apologies, but are we ready to order?”

“Please,” Leia said. She ordered for herself and her child - who she finally introduced as Ben, and then they went around the table. 

When the server got to Din and Bowri, she ordered for herself and Rhys. “And I’m sorry to ask this, but could we order something to go as well?”

The server blinked. “We usually do not allow take away.”

“Oh, thank you, but that will be all for us then.”

The young man nodded to Din. “You will not be ordering?”

Din shook his head. “No.”

“Nothing look good to you?” Han asked lightly.

“I cannot remove my helmet in public,” Din replied. 

“Ah,” Leia said, “So that’s who the take away would be for, hm?”

Bowri smiled. “Yes. But it’s alright. I’m sure we can find a vendor on the way back to the space port.”

“So, Bowri,” Leia continued, “What do you do?”

“I am a courier and Din is a bounty hunter.” She caught Han’s shudder out of the corner of her eye. “Right now we’re just visiting. We have had a . . . rough few weeks.”

* * *

As conversation ebbed and flowed around him, Din stayed more or less silent after his outburst about Boba Fett. He fed Rhys, and listened as Bowri spoke with Leia Organa and Lady Sabé. Han Solo and Luke Skywalker stayed silent for the most part, offering up tidbits of information every now and then. Luke would glance over at Rhys often, but the person at the table that never took his eyes off of Din was the other young child directly across from him. 

Little Ben was about four years old, with a mop of curly dark hair and big, soulful eyes. He dutifully ate the food his mother had ordered, but the entire time his eyes were trained on Din. He finished quickly, and as the adults continued their meal, he pulled out a piece of paper and a writing utensil from the little pack that was handing on his chair. He began furiously scribbling on the paper as Din sat back and watched Rhys cooing at Sabé. 

“Whatcha’ drawing there?” Han finally asked.

“Kylo,” the little on said softly. 

“Who’s Kylo?” Din asked, curious.

“Kylo’s his imaginary friend,” Leia replied. “He’s played with him for months now, but has never drawn him before.”

Rhys climbed half onto the table, and Ben looked up at him and gave a small smile. “Okay, you can see!”

Behind his mask, Din frowned. It had sounded like Ben was answering a question posed by Rhys. Before he could comment, Ben held up his piece of paper. Kylo - as he referred to his imaginary friend - was dressed in all black. He wore a helmet that was black as well, and held a strange looking vibroblade in one hand. The drawing was rough and childish, but Din didn’t miss the fact that the outfit depicted was supposed to mirror his. The little one held it out to Rhys. “You can keep it!”

Rhys took the piece of paper and hugged it with a coo. 

* * *

After taking their leave from the restuarant, Han, Luke, and Leia strolled back to their lodging with Ben happily skipping along beside his mother. He was excitedly babbling about the picnic that the adults had arranged for the next day with Din, Rhys, and Bowri. Ben liked them a lot, and was glad that there would be a chance to actually play with Rhys. 

However, the adults were a bit more cautious. “You’re certain?” Leia asked.

“That child looks just like Master Yoda,” Luke said. 

“So what?” Han snorted. “Did you think there was really only one of his kind?”

“I don’t know,” Luke muttered. “But I never anticipated seeing another like him traveling in the company of a Mandalorian.”

“That is surprising,” Leia murmured. “I thought they’d been wiped out after the failed uprising.”

Leia frowned. “Looks like at least a few of them survived.”

“I like them!” Ben called out. The three adults gave him an indulgent smile. 

“I will discuss them with Lady Sabé tomorrow,” Leia murmured, “while the two of you and Lando take Ben to the park for a picnic with them.” She cocked a brow at them. “Unless you think you’ll need me?”

“Don’t worry!” Han replied jovially, “It will be five adults and two kids! What could go wrong?”

That really should have been Leia’s first clue. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT ME BEING STUPIDLY SELF INDULGENT. 
> 
> I told you guys, I was going off the rails and here we go!

**Author's Note:**

> I . . . I don’t usually write original female characters, but even though I love Omera, this story has been percolating in the back of my head since episode 2. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Please feel free to come say hi to me on Twitter! I am known as LadyKnightSkye across most forms of social media!


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